


A Lion's Heart

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Auror Harry, Auror Ron, Awkward Conversations, Awkward First Times, BDSM, Background Het, Belts, Bottom Draco, Bottom Harry, Break Up, Falling In Love, First Love, Getting Back Together, Hand & Finger Kink, Hate Sex, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, Infidelity, Light Bondage, Loss of Control, Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Subspace, Top Draco, Top Harry, Top Severus Snape, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-07 23:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3186602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts after the war to finish his schooling, with the blessing of Kingsley Shacklebolt and the promise of a job as an Auror.  All he wanted was an easy year without any complications.  He didn't count on Draco Malfoy barging into his life and knocking everything sideways.  When Harry and Draco are forced apart, Harry must learn how to carry on living and loving.  A surprise discovery that Severus Snape is alive and well presents Harry with an unexpected opportunity for a fresh start. When two loves collide Harry faces the toughest decision of his life.  A story about love, growing up and how, when it comes to matters of the heart, nothing is ever simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mod Note: **We'd like to remind all visitors that the art and fiction created for the Harry Big Bang is not to be copied, repurposed, or redistributed without express permission from the artist who created it and that we have exclusivity until 7 March 2015. You are welcome to recommend fics and art by linking back to the post on Ao3, but not to copy and repost elsewhere.**
> 
>  **Author's Note:** Please be aware that this story spends a  substantial amount of time on both pairings and there are NC-17 scenes with each. I have wanted to tell this story for such a long time, but I never found the right time to attempt a novel length story in which my two favourite pairings collide together. When the Big Bang opportunity presented itself, it felt instinctively like the right time to write this. Thank you to A, N and K for listening to me stress out (a lot), Sophie French for cheerleading and support, Mab for proofing, cheering me on and being an awesome co-mod, [Primea](http://coffeeisagoodstart.tumblr.com/) for creating an amazing piece of art for the story, and to Inglevine and Torino10154 for talking me through my plot (*coughs*) and offering characterisation assistance. Thanks to anyone in advance who comes to this story with a preference for one pairing over another, and takes a chance.

_“I'm a kid like everyone else, so let me go. I don't wanna be your hero. I don't wanna be a big man, I just wanna fight like everyone else”_

\- Family of the Year, Hero 

“He does that every morning.” Ron helped himself to a piece of bacon from Harry’s plate and nodded towards Malfoy. “Don’t mind do you, Harry?”

“It’s a bit late now.” Harry followed the direction of Ron’s gaze and nudged his plate away from Ron. “What’s Malfoy up to?”

“He’s not up to anything.” Hermione turned the page of her book without looking up. “He’s just miserable.”

“Quite right too.” Ron huffed. “He’s lucky he’s not in Azkaban if you ask me.” He elbowed Harry. “Look, he’s doing it again.”

Malfoy checked to make sure the people next to him weren’t paying attention. When he seemed satisfied, he pulled a small glass phial from his robes. He uncorked it and drained the silvery liquid. With a grimace, he shoved the empty bottle back into his robes.

“Do you know what he’s drinking?” His curiosity piqued, Harry continued to watch Malfoy who appeared to be just as snooty and aggravating as usual. 

“No idea.” Ron snorted. “Something dodgy, I’ll bet.”

“He’s hardly going to drink illegal potions in the middle of the Great Hall.” Hermione rolled her eyes and closed her book. 

“Still, it’s obviously something he doesn’t want people to notice.” Harry looked up to find Malfoy watching him with a cool stare. He turned away quickly and tucked into his breakfast before Ron could nick anything else from his plate.

“Promise me you’re not going to start making up theories about Draco again. He’s turned over a new leaf by all accounts and the war is over now. He’s just trying to get his N.E.W.T.s like the rest of us.”

“My theories weren’t exactly off beam last time,” Harry replied. He turned back to Hermione, animated by the thought of having something to investigate. “I think we should keep an eye on him.”

“He’s bound to be up to no good,” Ron agreed.

“Honestly.” Hermione reached for her coffee and shook her head disapprovingly. “Haven’t you boys got anything better to talk about than Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Ron jabbed his fork in Harry’s direction and spoke with a mouthful of toast. “What’s going on with you and my sister?”

Hermione groaned and Harry responded with a shrug. He kept eating largely to avoid answering the question, and tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched.

“We should’ve just joined the Aurors when Shacklebolt asked.” Ron pulled a face and turned the page of an enormous text. He spluttered and sneezed as the dust from the book filled the surrounding space. “Bloody hell.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re right.” Harry doodled a gloomy looking face on his parchment and coughed as the dust from Ron’s book made its way in his direction. “At this rate I’m not going to get any N.E.W.T.s, which makes coming back to Hogwarts completely pointless.”

“Of course you will,” Hermione scoffed. She tapped her quill against Ron’s book. “Page six hundred and forty one.”

“How in the name of Merlin do you know these things?” Ron turned to the correct page and sent another waft of dust into the air in the process. “I don’t know if you’re barmy or completely brilliant.”

Hermione smiled as she finished her essay with a flourish. “You’ve really don’t know?”

Ron grinned and reached for Hermione’s hand, squeezing it. “Barmy. Definitely barmy.”

Harry watched the easy banter between Ron and Hermione with a familiar pang of loneliness. He shook his head when Ron dropped Hermione’s hand and cast Harry an apologetic look.

“Don’t do that on my account. Just because my love life’s gone to pot, it doesn’t mean everyone else should be miserable.”

“I’m sure there’s someone just around the corner for you, Harry.” Hermione leaned forwards and lowered her voice. “What about that Ravenclaw that always watches you fly? Emma, something. She seems nice.”

“Not exactly my type.” Harry pulled a face and tried to stop the heat rising in his cheeks.

“What exactly _is_ your type? I thought you and Gin were love’s young dream at one point.” Confused, Ron looked at Hermione who shook her head briefly as if to tell him _don’t push it_.

“Ginny’s a mate. Always will be,” Harry replied, firmly. “I don’t want to get into it. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the hassle of being with someone at the moment. Not when I’ve got potions homework coming out of my ears and Quidditch teams to captain.”

Hermione didn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

“Yes.” Harry nodded, not sure who he hoped to convince. “I do.”

Despite his promise to Hermione, Harry couldn’t help but notice Malfoy’s strange behaviour and determined to keep an eye on his movements.

Every morning at breakfast, Malfoy’s routine was the same. He put a small amount of food on his plate and proceeded to spend most of his time pushing the bacon and eggs from one side of the plate to the other. Harry took care to look away when Malfoy reached into his robes, but sometimes Malfoy was careless and Harry caught him drinking down a small bottle of the silvery potion.

That morning when Malfoy stood to leave, Harry pushed back his chair hurriedly. “I’m going to get on with my homework.” 

“We have class in an hour.” Hermione looked at her watch and frowned at Harry. “What homework?”

“Just potions stuff. Time I started taking these N.E.W.T.s seriously.” Harry grabbed a slice of toast and winked at Hermione. “Aren’t you pleased?”

“I would be if I believed you.” Hermione’s eyes narrowed. 

With a quick smile, Harry left the Great Hall before he could be asked any further questions. 

When he found himself back in the cool corridors, Harry exhaled. These days it was as if he had to remember how to breathe. Being back at Hogwarts made the sense of loss more acute than ever, and Harry’s hopes of an easy transition from soldier to student had dissipated from the moment he set foot on Hogwarts grounds.

No matter how many times he went back into the Great Hall, memories of the war assaulted Harry’s senses. He knew he would never forget the clasped hands and cold bodies of Remus and Tonks side by side on the floor. Sometimes he heard the sobs of Molly Weasley as she crouched next to Fred’s still body, distant and far away. The sight of broken fighters and weeping families filled Harry’s mind, and it took all of his strength to push them to one side and focus on the banalities of talking about the weather, or the latest piece of homework. In the darkest parts of the school, the corridors still held bloody reminders of the war which clung to the bricks. The ghosts of the past haunted Harry, inhabiting every room and space he had ever visited as a student.

In McGonagall’s office, the frame where Snape’s portrait should have been hung empty. It was just like Snape not to entertain the idea of inhabiting the dark, oily backdrop which gathered dust in the Headmistress’ office – recalcitrant to the end, even in memory form. Harry had asked Dumbledore about it when he had sipped tea with McGonagall and munched on some chocolate digestives which tasted better than any he’d ever had in the Muggle world.

_“Severus will be here, in time.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled and he smiled in a way that suggested he knew far more than he was letting on. “Tell me, Harry, did you attend his funeral?”_

_“They never found his body.” Harry gave McGonagall an apologetic look as he sprayed a few crumbs from his mouth. He swallowed, and continued, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “They had a service for him at the Ministry. He got some sort of plaque.”_

_“A plaque?” Dumbledore chuckled and shook his head, looking delighted about something. “Ah, Severus. He will be thrilled to hear about that, I’m sure.”_

_“When his portrait arrives?”_

_“Yes.” Dumbledore smiled again. “Perhaps.”_

Harry pushed his thoughts of Snape and Dumbledore to one side, determined not to lose sight of Malfoy. The slim figure ahead of Harry darted through the unfamiliar corridors and headed down another flight of stairs. Harry shivered as he made his way deeper into the belly of the school, keeping a little distance between himself and Malfoy. Here, in particular, the walls of Hogwarts had witnessed unspeakable atrocities. The stone hummed with memories and the sound of footsteps echoed in a way that made it seem as though an army of invisible soldiers marched alongside Harry. 

He followed Malfoy as quickly as he could, a peculiar sense of déjà vu making the palms of his hands clammy and his heartbeat quicken. There was something about Malfoy’s demeanour of late that nagged at Harry. 

Following Malfoy along the corridors in the direction of the dungeons reminded Harry of Hogwarts at a time when things had been very different. He had been right then, he told himself. He had been spot on when he’d insisted Malfoy was trouble – when he’d told anyone that would listen that Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark. 

Harry assured himself this was no different. If he really intended to be an Auror he would never be off duty. He knew well enough by now that he should trust his instincts, and his instinct was that Malfoy was hiding something. 

“Harry Potter, as I live and breathe! Look, it’s Harry Potter. Saved us all, he did. A hero, right there in the flesh!” 

“Bugger.” Harry forced a smile as Malfoy stopped, his shoulders tensing. He turned to the portrait of a rotund farmer with his hand clasped closely against his chest, his cheeks ruddy and his smile broad. “Hello there.”

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard all about you, of course. Not often we see you in this part of the castle – I was beginning to think I might never meet you in person.”

“Yeah, right. Um…very nice to meet you.” Harry glanced around the corridor as the farmer began a rousing chorus of Peeves’ victory song.

When Harry finally extricated himself from the portrait, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

Exhausted but happy after a particularly energetic Quidditch practice, Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower. He groaned at the thought of the piles of books waiting to be read and wondered again why he had allowed himself to be convinced by Hermione and McGonagall that completing his studies would be a good idea.

Harry knew full well Kingsley didn’t expect either him or Ron to have stellar exam results, and for the umpteenth time he imagined travelling the world with the Auror corps. He thought of the crumpled owl from Kingsley next to his bedside cabinet, telling Harry all about the latest efforts to round up the remaining Death Eaters.

_You’re always welcome to join us if you change your mind, Harry. If not, we’ll make sure there’s plenty for you to do when you finish Hogwarts._

“There won’t be any Death Eaters left by then,” Harry muttered to himself. “It’s all going to be paperwork and sitting in an office waiting for something horrible to happen. Bloody marvellous.” 

“I know you’ve been watching me.” As Harry approached the seventh floor, Malfoy emerged from the shadows and blocked Harry’s path. He tipped his chin at an angle in an unspoken challenge. As always, he looked as well turned out as ever and Harry tried to push aside the irritation he always felt when Malfoy was close by.

“I’ve been doing no such thing.” Harry kept his voice confident and steady, despite the fact Malfoy had clearly caught him out.

“Liar.” Malfoy glared and pressed uncomfortably close to Harry. His pale cheeks flushed pink and his lips twisted into an ugly sneer. “Don’t have anything better to do than follow me around, I expect. Just leave me alone.”

Harry stepped back, Malfoy’s proximity unsettling him. He raked his hand through his hair and gave Malfoy his best glare. “I’m not the one hanging around in the shadows. This is Gryffindor Tower, Malfoy. Shouldn’t you be lording it up in the Slytherin common room or something?”

“I was waiting for you.” Malfoy folded his arms and scowled at Harry. “To tell you to leave me alone.”

“Well now you’ve told me.” Harry shrugged and he moved to push past Malfoy. “Besides, it’s not as if you don’t see me in the Great Hall every day, not to mention our classes together. I’m not sure why you decided to come all the way up here.”

“Because I wanted to nip this in the bud before you start stalking me again.” Malfoy sniffed. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you have some kind of dangerous obsession.”

“Dangerous _obsession_?” Harry laughed until his sides hurt, clutching his hands against them. He managed to speak finally, with a wheeze. “Bloody hell, you’re up yourself.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes which darkened with fury. “And you’re a self-righteous twat. I suppose you think you’re better than everybody else, just because you’ve managed to get on first name terms with the Minister for Magic? I’ll have you know my father-”

“Your _father_?” Harry snorted. “That line stopped working a long time ago, Malfoy. Your father should be in prison and everybody knows it. You’re lucky your family’s rich, that’s all I can say.”

“I hate you, Potter!” Malfoy shouted out his words and he gripped Harry’s arm. Harry looked down at Malfoy’s slim, bony fingers digging into his wrist. Malfoy wore a gold signet ring embedded with emeralds, and his nails were blunt but perfectly shaped. His fingers tightened on Harry’s arm. “You’ve got everything you ever wanted. I don’t know why you can’t just stop.”

“Stop what? Stop standing here and being annoyed by you? Because I’m quite happy to do that.” Harry stared at Malfoy and shook himself free from the tight grip. “How do you know what I’ve _got_? You don’t know a thing about me.” 

“Stop following me and stop trying to save me.” Malfoy’s grim expression flickered and he dropped his hands to his sides. His voice lowered and he spoke with a slow, quiet fury. “Not even the great Harry Potter can do that. Nobody can.”

Harry shrugged, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not trying to save anyone, you can go swimming with the Giant Squid for all I care.”

Malfoy looked as if he was about to respond, but he pressed his lips into a thin line. The light flush in his cheeks deepened. 

“Just fuck off,” Malfoy spat. 

Before Harry could respond, Malfoy had turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness.

“And he just accosted you out of nowhere?” Hermione sounded suspicious.

Harry nodded. “Yep. Started telling me to stop following him and all sorts.”

“Why would you want to follow Malfoy?” Ron shuddered at the thought and sent a piece of parchment flying towards the fire in a zig-zag path across the common room. It was just after midnight and they had congregated on the comfortable sofas with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Despite his reticence to come back to Hogwarts, sitting with Ron and Hermione when everyone else had gone to bed was one of Harry’s favourite things to do. The flickering light from the fire made the room warm and toasty. He wiggled his toes, content.

“That’s exactly what I said to him. I told him I couldn’t care less if he went swimming with the Giant Squid.” Harry grinned and Hermione frowned at him.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“It’s _Malfoy_.” Ron stared at Hermione. “Since when are we nice to Malfoy?”

“Things have changed now. You heard McGonagall and the Sorting Hat. It’s all about building bridges and breaking down divisions between the houses.” Hermione gave Harry a look. “Besides, I didn’t think you were mean.”

“I wasn’t being mean,” Harry protested. A lingering sense of doubt gnawed at him as he remembered the look on Malfoy’s face when he’d mentioned Lucius, as if someone had slapped him soundly. “At least I don’t think I was.”

“Imagine coming back to school when your mother and father gave up their home to Voldemort. I don’t think he’s going to be too popular anymore.”

“He’ll be a bloody hero with the Slytherins as usual.” Ron snorted.

“No.” Hermione shook her head. “I really don’t think he will. There were plenty of people killed during the war – Slytherins too – and not just those fighting on the other side. Besides, you saw Malfoy Manor during the war. Who knows what Draco went through?”

“We’re feeling sorry for him now?” Harry looked from Ron to Hermione and back again.

“I’m not.” Ron reached for a handful of marshmallows and dropped them into his drink, melting them with a quick spell. “He had choices, just like we did.”

“Did he?” Hermione shrugged. “Perhaps he did, but I’m not sure any of us would have chosen differently if we had been raised by Lucius Malfoy.”

“Can you imagine?” Horrified, Ron spluttered out a little of his drink. “Merlin, they probably used to read Malfoy Dark Arts books before bed.”

Hermione looked thoughtful, her close gaze making Harry squirm uncomfortably. “Yes, they probably did.”

When Harry announced over breakfast he wanted to try to make friends with Malfoy, Ron nearly knocked his tea into Hermione’s lap.

“Why the bloody fuck would you do that?”

“Honestly, Harry.” Hermione sighed and opened her book, shaking her head. 

“Hang on, it was you that encouraged me!”

“I did no such thing.” Hermione stared at Harry. “I simply suggested not making fun of him. I doubt he’ll thank you for trying to become part of his life after everything.”

“Still.” Determined, Harry gave Ron his last sausage in the hope of appeasing him. “You got me thinking about the things Malfoy went through during the war. He’s one of the few people here who probably saw as much as we did. Perhaps we’ll have something in common.”

“Yeah, perhaps.” Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. “Perhaps you’ll be able to hang out at his place over the summer so his dad can try to kill you _again_. Or maybe you can chat about Pureblood rituals and bond over Dark magic and how much you both love You-Know-Who. You can bully house-elves and Muggle-borns together. It’ll be a right laugh.”

“We both like Quidditch,” Harry pointed out. “It might sound stupid, but-”

“It sounds as though you’ve gone mental.” Ron pressed close to Harry and prodded his finger into Harry’s cheek.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Checking to see if Malfoy’s put some kind of spell on you.”

Harry glared at Ron. “By prodding me in the face? What the bloody hell is that going to tell you?”

“We should check _someone_ isn’t using Polyjuice,” Ron informed Hermione who thankfully didn’t respond.

“I’m right here.” Harry gritted his teeth and elbowed Ron. “Stop talking about me as if I can’t hear you.”

“It’s a stupid idea if you ask me.” Ron shrugged and cleaned his plate. “But that’s never stopped you before.”

Harry bristled. “Since when do you think my ideas are stupid?”

“Since now.” Ron gave Harry a lopsided smile. “As long as you don’t forget who your real friends are.”

Harry grinned and relaxed, nudging Ron with his arm. “As if I could.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Funny how it seems like yesterday, as I recall you were looking out of place…I followed you into the hall. Cigarette daydream, you were only seventeen, so sweet with a mean streak, nearly brought me to my knees”_

\- Cage the Elephant, Cigarette Daydream 

Harry waited outside potions until everybody filtered out, Ron with a roll of his eyes and Hermione shaking her head at Harry. He ignored them and waved them off, determined to put his plan into action.

Malfoy had a tendency to stay behind after class – after potions in particular. He would talk to the new Professor in hushed whispers, his body tense and his lips set in a grim line. 

Harry fell into step next to Malfoy when he finally exited. “At this rate you’ll get a better N.E.W.T than Hermione,” Harry said.

Malfoy glared at Harry and picked up his pace. “What the fuck are you doing, Potter?”

“Making conversation.” It wasn’t going brilliantly, Harry had to admit. “I thought we should put the past behind us.”

Malfoy stopped in his tracks and stared at Harry. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Interhouse cooperation.” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and Harry decided to change tack. “McGonagall made me.”

“Now it makes sense,” Malfoy muttered. He started walking again and his lips curved into a smirk. “You should know I’m on my way to the bathroom. Just in case you’re thinking of following me much further.”

“I thought I might go to Hogsmeade this weekend. If you fancied it.” Harry quickly calculated the distance from their location and guessed he had about ten minutes of Malfoy’s time, because he had no intention of following Malfoy further than the door. He wanted to strike up a friendship, not remind Malfoy of the last time they had been in the bathroom together and Harry had left Malfoy bleeding into the drains.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Potter?” Malfoy’s lips quirked into a smile and he extended his arm, smoothing some dust off his robes. 

Harry’s body heated and he stumbled over his feet which seemed to have become worryingly uncooperative. “Why the bloody hell would you think that?”

“Slytherin gossip doesn’t make its way to Gryffindor Tower, I see.” Malfoy appraised Harry with a cool stare. “I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.”

Harry resisted the urge to ask Malfoy to expand on what sort of gossip he might have expected to reach Gryffindor Tower. He wasn’t interested in that at all. Much. “Well, I’m not asking you to go out with me or anything. Don’t worry about that.” 

For some reason Harry found it difficult to let Malfoy know in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t interested in blokes. His shirt seemed unusually tight around his neck and he yanked at his tie to loosen it a little so he could breathe properly again.

“I wasn’t worried.” Malfoy huffed and stopped as they reached the bathroom. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“Like I said, interhouse cooperation.” Harry tried to fight back the heat he could feel rising from his chest to his cheeks. He hoped to Merlin he didn’t look as red as he felt.

“Well I’m not interested in cooperating with you.” Malfoy pushed open the door crossly, leaving Harry with a view of his back. “Just bugger off.”

Harry wanted to respond but Malfoy’s teasing had unsettled him. He watched the door close behind Malfoy and stared at it for a long time before making his way to his next class.

“So you’re saying that Malfoy wants to be more than just friends?” Ron wrinkled his nose and made a face. “That’s horrible.”

“No, I’m saying Malfoy told me to bugger off.” Harry cast Ron a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. “You think it’s horrible?”

“I think Ronald’s suggesting there might be better people you could choose to be in a relationship with,” Hermione replied quickly. “I’m sure he’s not saying there’s anything wrong with liking other men.”

“I’m not?” Ron looked from Harry to Hermione and shrugged, his face settling into a frown. “No, I’m not, but I don’t have to like the idea of Malfoy and my best mate getting up to all sorts any more than I liked the idea of Harry and Ginny getting up to…stuff.”

“How in the name of Merlin did we get from what I told you to me and Malfoy being in a _relationship_?” The room really was uncomfortably warm and Harry started to wonder if he wasn’t coming down with something. “Besides, Ginny and I didn’t do any _stuff_. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“No, you didn’t, did you?” Hermione pondered that and patted Harry’s arm. “And you’re quite sure you think this friendship with Draco is a good idea?”

“I don’t know what I bloody think anymore.” Harry huffed and looked gloomily into the fire. “What did you say that Ravenclaw was called?”

“Emma.” Hermione hesitated and exchanged a look with Ron. “Emma McNally.”

“Perhaps I’ll see if she wants to go for a coffee after all.”

“You do that, mate.” Ron nodded, sagely. “Before Malfoy gets the wrong idea about you.”

“I’m not sure how telling him he’s a prat on a regular basis would lead him to get any sort of ideas.” Harry sighed and stretched out on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. “Perhaps this friendship idea wasn’t the best I’ve ever had.”

Ron opened his mouth, no doubt to respond with a satisfied _I told you so_ , but Hermione stopped him with a _tut_.

“That doesn’t sound much like you, Harry. Giving up so easily.”

“No.” Harry continued to stare at the ceiling, his mind filling with unwelcome images of Malfoy. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

That weekend, Harry found himself listening to an enthusiastic description of _Hogwarts, A History_ which would put Hermione’s interest in the subject to shame. He stirred a healthy spoonful of sugar into his large mug of tea and nodded while Emma McNally continued to chatter.

“That’s great. Really brilliant.”

Emma looked startled. “No it isn’t. It’s _horrible_.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Absentmindedly, Harry chewed on a warm scone piled high with strawberry jam and clotted cream. “Awful.”

Emma shook her head and took a delicate sip of her cappuccino. “Why exactly did you ask me to come to Hogsmeade with you this weekend?”

“Because…” Harry trailed off and searched for an answer that wasn’t _because Malfoy said no_ , or _because Hermione told me to_. “I thought it might be nice to get to know you better.”

“I see.” Emma didn’t look convinced. “It’s just…you don’t seem terribly interested.”

The bell above the door jingled and Malfoy entered the coffee shop, his head bowed close to Theodore Nott. A strange gnawing sensation settled in Harry’s stomach and he clutched his mug more tightly.

“Interested in what?”

Emma rolled her eyes and reached for her coat. “Never mind.”

“Wait!” Tearing his gaze away from the seat Malfoy had settled into with Nott, Harry focused his attention on Emma. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to do some shopping and go back to the castle. Alone,” she finished pointedly.

“I’m sorry.” Harry grimaced. “I’ve been distracted.”

“Clearly.” Emma’s frosty expression softened and she gave Harry a small smile. “Thank you for the coffee. It was nice of you. You’re a decent chap, Harry.”

“Thanks.” Harry watched Emma’s retreating back and turned back to his drink with a sigh. “Well that was an unmitigated disaster,” he muttered under his breath.

“Talking to yourself, Potter?”

Harry looked up to find Malfoy watching him with an amused gaze. 

“I did have company, thanks.” Harry looked over Malfoy’s shoulder. “Where’s Nott?”

“He’s around.” Malfoy shrugged and settled into the recently vacated seat opposite Harry. “He said something about a silk tie and a new quill.”

“Are you and he…together?”

“Not anymore, he’s gone shopping.” Malfoy raised his eyebrows at Harry. “Although I expect that’s not what you’re asking in that usual subtle as a brick manner of yours. Nott is my friend, Potter. I suppose you think I’m shagging everyone male with a pulse now you know my filthy little secret?”

The way Malfoy enunciated the word _shagging_ and drawled lazily about his _filthy little secret_ made Harry shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I don’t spend much time thinking about your sex life, Malfoy. I’m more interested in those potions you take every morning.” That wasn’t strictly true, but there was no way Harry planned to let Malfoy know that.

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and he swept his hair back from his forehead, fixing Harry with a glare. “That’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not.” Harry shrugged and took another bite of his scone, hoping the silence would encourage Malfoy to continue.

“You’re disgusting. Do you know how much sugar there is in one of those things?” Malfoy wrinkled his nose in distaste. “And it’s nothing illegal if that’s what you and your little friends are worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Harry lied. He finished his scone and wiped his fingers on his napkin, ignoring the look Malfoy gave him. 

“You want to check I’m not sick, is that it?” Malfoy’s lip curled. “So _noble_.”

“Or nosy,” Harry pointed out with a grin.

Malfoy huffed, but seemed to relax at Harry’s teasing. “If I told you that McGonagall knows all about it, will you drop it?”

“Of course.” Despite his curiosity, Harry knew he could hardly justify investigating further when it really was none of his business. “You’re not playing Quidditch this year?”

“I haven’t played for years.” Malfoy seemed put out about the fact. “It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t beat you if I was to play again. I still practise.”

“We’ll never know now, will we?” Harry sat back in his seat and contemplated Malfoy. “Pity. I’d have liked to see you put your money where your mouth is.”

Malfoy raised his eyes heavenward. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” Harry frowned, wondering why everybody seemed intent on misunderstanding him lately.

“Accept your wager.” Malfoy stood and turned back to Harry with a parting shot. “Nine o’clock this evening. I’ll meet you at the Quidditch pitch. The first one to the Snitch wins.”

“Wins _what_ exactly?”

Malfoy smiled in an unnerving fashion. “I have a few ideas.”

“Care to share them?”

Malfoy nodded. “Tonight. Nine o’clock. Unless you’re scared, Potter?”

“Of you?” Harry snorted. “Hardly. Nine it is.”

For the first time since they had arrived back at Hogwarts, Malfoy walked with the same swagger Harry had become used to during their earlier years. Flanked by Nott and a couple of fifth years, Malfoy wore expensive looking gloves and robes which bore little resemblance to the Slytherin team’s kit.

“I hope you’re prepared to lose, Potter.” Malfoy unfurled his hand and a golden Snitch fluttered in his palm. He closed his hand around it again before it could escape. “We’ll play with this. I don’t trust you not to cheat.”

“This was a stupid idea.” Harry gestured up at the dark sky which was blanketed with thick, grey clouds. “It’s going to rain and it’s too dark to see anything. We need proper light.”

“You’re forfeiting?” Malfoy’s teeth glinted in the moonlight and Nott snickered.

“Told you. He’s all talk. I bet he didn’t do half the things he said he did during the war.”

“What exactly did _you_ do during the war?” Ron stood close to Harry and folded his arms. “Apart from run and hide.”

Nott growled and Hermione cleared her throat. “Shall we get started?”

“Whenever Potter’s ready.” Malfoy looked gleeful. “Ready to be reminded he’s not as brilliant as he thinks he is.”

“Nice pal you’ve got there,” Ron muttered to Harry. “Bring him out more often. He’s a hoot.”

“Fine, you were right. It was a stupid idea. Happy?” Harry rolled his eyes when Ron looked smug. “Are you going to stay and cheer me on or what?”

“’Course.” Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder and shot a glare at Malfoy. “Just make sure you take the git down a peg or two.”

“We still haven’t agreed on the terms.” Harry eyed Malfoy nervously. “What were you thinking?”

“Our school scarves.” Malfoy looked suspiciously innocent and passed his neatly folded Slytherin scarf to Hermione. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? What’s the catch?”

“You’re always so suspicious.” Malfoy smiled, and looked as if butter wouldn’t melt. “If you lose, I get to keep your house scarf. It’s really not that difficult to grasp.”

Harry hesitated. Although he loved his Gryffindor scarf, he could always get another one. What worried him most was the creeping unease, and the sense that he was missing something. He looked at Hermione who seemed equally unsure.

“Well?” Malfoy tapped his foot on the ground and folded his arms. “We don’t have all night.”

“Fine, let’s get started.” Harry flicked his wand and Summoned his scarf.

Hermione took the scarves and sat in the stands with Ron and Malfoy’s Slytherin cronies. Harry frowned up at the dark sky and mounted his broom. He gave Malfoy a glare and kicked off from the ground, looping his broom in a lazy circle.

“Come on then, Malfoy. Let’s get this over with.”

After soaring into the sky and settling next to Harry, Malfoy looked cheerful. “I’m looking forward to this.” He extended his hand and the Snitch fluttered free. It hovered above their heads momentarily, before disappearing into the darkness.

Harry edged away from Malfoy who continued to crow about his impending victory, and kept his eyes peeled. 

“I don’t think we need the running commentary, do you?” Harry turned to glare at Malfoy, but Malfoy wasn’t looking at Harry anymore. Instead his eyes narrowed and with a laugh he focused his broom upwards and zoomed away from Harry.

“The Snitch, Harry!” 

Ron’s voice floated up to Harry. He muttered a curse and angled his broom in Malfoy’s direction. He knew he was already at a disadvantage and cursed Malfoy again for distracting him. 

As Harry pursued the Snitch, he couldn’t help watching Malfoy fly. He had to admit that Malfoy was rightfully smug about his abilities. He had definitely improved, and his movements were deft, elegant and self-assured. He flew with absolute confidence and appeared to have learned a few new tricks. It made Harry almost glad Malfoy was no longer on the Slytherin team.

As they chased the Snitch, the heavens opened and thick droplets of rain peppered Harry. He swore as he tried to wipe the rain from his glasses, wondering why he hadn’t thought to bring his goggles. Distracted by casting various spells to keep his vision clear, Harry realised he was completely alone in the vast darkness. He vaguely heard cheers and shouts of anger, but he could no longer see Malfoy or their audience. Harry flew towards the voices with renewed determination. 

Malfoy sped downwards and a flicker of gold caught Harry’s eye. He gritted his teeth and pursued Malfoy. He urged his broom onwards, gathering speed as he hurtled towards the ground. His movements drew exclamations from the gathered crowd and the familiar sound of Ron’s hollering made Harry grin.

He gave chase, but he knew that he was just too far back. As Malfoy stretched out his hand towards the Snitch, Harry had just reached Malfoy’s ankles. He watched futilely as Malfoy’s gloved hand plucked the Snitch from the air, and together they pulled their brooms to a stop at a sharp angle which nearly flung Harry onto the ground.

Breathless, Malfoy held his hand aloft. His eyes shone and he laughed with delight. “I did it! I got the Snitch!”

Harry aimed his broom back towards the ground and disembarked when he neared the ground. “You won, fair and square.”

“Didn’t I tell you it wouldn’t be a problem?” Malfoy looked triumphantly at Nott. 

“He didn’t make it easy for you.” After a moment’s hesitation, Nott extended his hand to Harry. “A decent bit of flying, I suppose.”

“Thanks.” Harry took the proffered hand and shook it firmly. “Nice work, Malfoy.”

Ignoring Harry, Malfoy gave another whoop of delight. In the moonlight with his pale cheeks flushed pink with exertion and his hair mussed and dishevelled, Malfoy looked almost…attractive.

Horrified, Harry pushed the unwelcome thought to one side and set off towards the castle gesturing for Ron and Hermione to follow.

Harry didn’t have to wait long to get to the bottom of the strange terms of Malfoy’s wager. He made his way downstairs to breakfast after waking later than usual, to find the Great Hall buzzing with excitement. Everywhere he looked people were huddled together in small groups and each one stopped mid-conversation as Harry passed, gawking at him with barely concealed curiosity.

“Have I gone back in time?” Harry sat next to a concerned looking Hermione, and raised his eyebrows at Ron who had turned beet red. “What’s all the kerfuffle about? It’s like first year again.”

“It’s Malfoy, that bloody ferret.” Ron spoke through gritted teeth. His plate was still full and the apparent loss of appetite gave Harry a sinking feeling.

“What’s he done now?”

“He’s just wearing your scarf.” Hermione looked wary and glanced over her shoulder towards the Slytherin table. “It’s caused a bit of excitement.”

“I’m not surprised. Malfoy wearing Gryffindor colours. Is that even allowed?” Harry reached for a piece of toast and turned to look at Malfoy. He was surrounded by people, the usual quiet spot he had selected on previous mornings now crowded with younger Slytherins hanging onto Malfoy’s every word. He appeared to be holding court quite happily, his slim hands held some distance apart which drew gasps and giggles from those listening to his story.

“I’m going to hex his bollocks off.” Ron stood and withdrew his wand, much to Harry’s alarm.

“Malfoy’s got some newfound popularity. Why does that matter? He’s going to be a bit more obnoxious than he’s been this year, but there’s nothing new there.”

Hermione reached forward and tugged on Ron’s jumper, urging him to sit down. “I think Ron’s a bit annoyed because Malfoy seems to be telling people stories which aren’t quite true.”

“I’ll bet. I’m sure he’s telling everyone I fell on my arse, or that he beat me to the Snitch in five seconds flat or something.” Harry shrugged. “So what?”

“That’s not what he’s saying,” Ron hissed. “Turns out more people than we thought know about Malfoy being…you know what.”

“He’s not _Voldemort_ , Ron.” Hermione rolled her eyes and faced Harry head on. “Plenty of people know Malfoy’s gay. I’m not sure how we’ve only just found out. Something about Michael Corner and a night out over the summer. Everyone was there.”

“Except us,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, exactly.” Hermione cast another look back at Malfoy and frowned. “When he came down to breakfast wearing your scarf people just made assumptions and-”

“Malfoy let them,” Ron finished. “He encouraged it.”

“I think he’s been very complimentary about you…” Hermione trailed off and Ron snorted.

“He’s been _what_?” A wave of dread washed over Harry and he put his toast back on his plate. “But nobody’s going to believe that. We’ll tell them the truth.”

“Too late.” Ron glared towards the Slytherin table. “I think people reckon it’s some sort of cover you’ve devised between you. Something about Malfoy’s father not wanting the family line to end with him or something.”

“Which may well be true,” Hermione tapped her finger to her lip thoughtfully. “Which makes me think maybe Malfoy’s plan had nothing to do with being popular again – that’s just an added bonus. Maybe it’s all about his father. Lucius Malfoy isn’t the most open-minded person in the world, but he could probably be convinced by anything if it meant raising his profile. This…well…it’s _you_ , Harry. No one’s going to speak out against you.”

“Or against anyone you’re associated with,” Ron continued. “Malfoy’s played an absolute blinder, that slimy, Slytherin git. I’m going to punch him in the nose. I don’t care what you say, Hermione. I’m going to punch him in the nose and tell him what a wanker he’s being.”

“Hang on.” Harry held up his hands, his thoughts racing and his body cold. “I don’t want anyone throwing punches. Not yet, anyway.” He growled and clenched his hands into fists. “Besides, if anyone’s doing the punching it’s going to be me.” A thought occurred to him and he looked at Ron with horror. “How am I going to get a girlfriend after this? It’s been bad enough trying to find someone as it is, without Malfoy telling everyone we’re love’s young dream.”

“I’m not sure that’s our biggest concern.” Hermione and Ron exchanged another one of their glances which fuelled Harry’s anger.

“Not for you, maybe.”

“Or for you.” Hermione offered, gently. “Harry…”

“Don’t!” Harry’s palms went clammy and his heart hammered in his chest. A familiar heat crept from his chest to his cheeks and he shook his head. “Don’t say it. You don’t have any right. I don’t even know…” Harry stopped and tried to calm himself without much success. “I mean it, Hermione.”

“I’m not saying anything. Nothing at all.” Hermione exchanged another worried look with Ron who looked uncomfortable. She folded her hands on the table and spoke quietly. “There’s no shame in it, you know.”

“I said stop it!” Harry stood so quickly his chair clattered to the floor, causing other students in their vicinity to look at him with alarm. He pulled at his tie to loosen it, reminded of his first conversation with Malfoy – the one where he had tried to be _friends_. The memory of his own naïve stupidity left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth and he gave Hermione a pleading look, trying to stop his voice from wavering. “I just want to be normal. Don’t you get it?”

Hermione nodded, her cheeks pink and her eyes shining with tears. “You are. You _are_ normal.”

“I can’t do this. I can’t do any of this.” Harry turned to find Malfoy staring at him. He held his gaze for a moment, fury coursing through his veins before leaving the room without a backwards glance.


	3. Chapter 3

_“How could this be done, by such a smiling sweetheart. Oh and your sweet and pretty face in such an ugly world, something so beautiful... still out to get me…”_

\- The Kooks, Naïve 

“They told me you’d be here.” Malfoy stood next to the sofa in Snape’s old living quarters as Harry studiously ignored him. “Why _are_ you here, anyway?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Harry’s spoke with quiet fury. “Is this what you do now? Now we’re in a _relationship_?”

“I’m sorry about that.” Malfoy perched on the edge of the sofa, not sounding sorry at all. “I didn’t think it would upset you so much. It was meant to be a bit of a joke and it helps me out in the process.”

“A joke?” Harry sat up and glared at Malfoy. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“Not really,” Malfoy admitted. He pulled Harry’s scarf from his neck and folded it up. “You can have this back now.”

“Brilliant. That’s everything fixed, then.” Harry pulled his knees up against his chest to put a barrier between himself and Malfoy. He waved his hand when Malfoy offered him the scarf. “You might as well keep it. The damage is done.”

Malfoy rubbed his jaw and winced. “You need to tell Granger to stop punching people.”

Harry felt a flood of appreciation for Hermione. “She was just defending me.”

“I don’t understand why you’re being so peculiar about all of this.” Malfoy’s brow furrowed.   
“You _are_ gay, aren’t you? And definitely single. I won’t stand in the way of you finding true love if that’s what you’re worried about. The main thing is that the message will get back to father and after that, nothing really matters.”

Harry bristled at Malfoy’s casual tone. “I’m not sure what led you to that conclusion. You don’t know anything about my personal life.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened briefly. “There must have been a reason you’re not still with that Weasley of yours?”

“She’s called Ginny.” Harry bit out his words and glared at Malfoy. “We’re friends. What happened between us is none of your business and it’s certainly nothing to do with…”

“The fact you prefer men?” Malfoy sighed and flopped inelegantly onto the sofa, perching his chin in his hands and frowning into the empty fireplace. “I didn’t realise you hadn’t come out yet.”

Harry growled low in his throat, riled by Malfoy’s assumptions. “ _I_ don’t even know what I want, Malfoy. You had no right. No bloody right!” Harry’s anger flamed again as he remembered the whispers and the curious faces. “I’ve had enough of being stared at wherever I go, and now I’ve got another whole year of it – another year of people knowing stuff about me they have no business to know. Stuff I wanted time to understand.”

“I didn’t realise.” Malfoy’s unreadable expression faltered until he looked almost contrite.   
“You’re Harry Potter for fucks sake. If even I could get a shag after the war, I assumed you’d had plenty.”

“Plenty of offers, maybe.” Harry swallowed and he shifted on the sofa until he too was staring into the empty fire. “Not so much as a snog with anyone other than Ginny – and I wasn’t exactly out looking for blokes. Not until…”

“Until things started to make sense,” Malfoy murmured. He pulled a face, his expression pinched and cross. “I should have known you were going to be completely sanctimonious about this. Any normal hero would be thankful to have people think he can fuck five times a night and has a cock the size of Hagrid’s arm.”

Harry turned slowly to Malfoy, pressing his lips together until it almost hurt. “People think _what_?”

“It’s a compliment.” Malfoy met Harry’s gaze and withered a little under it. “I could have said you had performance issues. _Then_ you could be angry.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything _at all_.” Harry groaned and sat back on the sofa, wondering how he got into this mess. “I don’t want people talking about how I have sex or what size my cock is. That’s private, you stupid bloody idiot. All I want to do is get through this year and become an Auror. Simple. No complications. No rumours about me shagging my way through Slytherin House, thanks very much.”

“Oh, you’re not sleeping around,” Malfoy confirmed. “You’re very devoted.”

“Is that so?” Harry growled, turning to glare at Malfoy. “I’m not feeling terribly devoted right now. In fact, I have a burning desire to hex my _boyfriend’s_ arse into next week.”

“This could work for you too, Potter.” Malfoy leaned forwards eagerly. “You don’t want any complications and this way you don’t have any. No more Hufflepuffs mooning over you or first years doodling your name in their diaries, hoping you’re going to fall in love with them.”

Despite his annoyance, Harry pondered over Malfoy’s suggestion. It would be nice not to have to worry about going out with people while he tried to get his head sorted out, he had to admit. Still, he wasn’t going to relent so easily.

“Don’t try to pretend you did this for my benefit.” Harry eyed Malfoy closely. “I take it your dad doesn’t think much of having a gay son?”

“Not a lot.” Malfoy winced and looked morosely into the distance. “He’s very keen to see the Malfoy line continue. With my father’s views on blood purity, adoption is hardly an option. Besides, he thinks it’s unseemly. Not the way a Malfoy should behave.”

Harry’s dislike for Lucius Malfoy grew as he listened. He frowned. “It’s not a problem for most normal witches and wizards – ones who aren’t still clinging on to arcane ideas, I mean.”

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Malfoy snorted and he shook his head at Harry. “You, the boy hero, who’s even more in the closet than I am. You’re no better than Michael Corner.”

Harry stiffened at the mention of Michael, an unexpected wave of jealousy making him grit his teeth. “Yeah, Hermione mentioned you and he might have…”

Malfoy shrugged. “Once. After he realised everyone knew his little secret, he left. He’s working in Manchester now, I believe. Last I heard, he was engaged to a nice witch who wasn’t likely to besmirch the good Corner name.”

“It’s really that bad?” Harry studied Malfoy. “Ron and Hermione don’t seem to think so.”

Malfoy snorted. “From what I hear, Charlie Weasley’s off shagging everything from witches and wizards to dragons. I’m not sure Weasley would want to see one of his brothers hung out to dry. Granger is,” Malfoy wrinkled his nose, “a _liberal_.” 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the horrified expression on Malfoy’s face. “Well there’s nothing wrong with that. I’d say I’m pretty liberal too.”

“Well at least you don’t organise rallies for house-elves,” Malfoy muttered. He looked up at Harry, his expression unreadable. “It wouldn’t do any harm, you know. If you were to be a bit more open about this. I don’t think the press are going to vilify you, whereas me…” Malfoy trailed off.

“So much for a bit of peace and quiet.” Harry slid his wand through his fingers and thought about Malfoy’s suggestion. Not having to placate Hermione by going on more miserable dates appealed to him, and the sense of unfairness that anyone would be made to suffer just for loving someone tugged at his heartstrings.

“I’m not suggesting you have to move to Soho and host a Queer Cabaret at Grimmauld Place once a month.” Malfoy snorted softly at the suggestion. “But it wouldn’t kill you to be a bit more open about things. Tell Skeeter to get stuffed next time she starts asking about you and Granger. Tell her you prefer your partners a bit more _masculine_ \- that ought to give her the exclusive of a lifetime.”

“I’m not even sure what I want to be open about, yet.” Harry sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “I have no experience with this, Malfoy. None. I don’t even know what I want, and I would have preferred a bit more time to work that out.”

“I think you know what you don’t want, though.” Malfoy’s eyes glittered and he looked self-satisfied. “And you know what appeals. Isn’t that enough of an answer?”

Harry shrugged. “Not really.” After a long pause, he relented. “No more making up lies about me. No more _sex stories_. You’ve got one hell of an imagination, Malfoy. Not to mention absolutely _no idea_ what I’m looking for.”

Malfoy looked curious but clearly decided not to push it. “Fine.”

They sat in silence while the minutes stretched out between them before Malfoy piped up again, breaking Harry’s train of thought.

“Why here? Why Snape’s old rooms?”

“Because it’s one of the few places in Hogwarts I was never allowed, so it doesn’t have any memories.” Harry shrugged. “I came here wondering if there might be a portrait, and found the rooms untouched and unused. Even though the curse on the Defence position has been lifted, I don’t think anyone fancied staying here. Most of the students think it’s haunted and not by one of the good guys.” Harry decided not to add _I feel safe here_ and expose himself to any further derision from Malfoy.

Malfoy snorted. “Professor Snape is no more a ghost than you or I.” He sounded curious. “Why were you looking for his portrait? Honestly, Potter – did you decide to start this term trying to make friends with people who hate you?”

“Not exactly.” Harry pulled a face. “I had things I wanted to talk to Snape about. Not that he’s bothered showing his face. The portrait in McGonagall’s office is empty too.”

“Do you ever wonder if maybe he didn’t actually die?”

Harry stared at the ceiling and nodded. 

“Yeah. All the time.”

Pretending to be in a relationship with Malfoy turned out to be much easier than Harry expected. They largely kept themselves to themselves, and Harry’s days passed much as they had before his wager with Malfoy. While some of Malfoy’s former cockiness returned, he continued to isolate himself for the most part – drinking the same silvery potion every morning at breakfast, and studying by himself in the library surrounded by weighty tomes and rolls of parchment.

After the Christmas break and a very pleasant fortnight at The Burrow, full of warmth, laughter and no mention whatsoever of Draco Malfoy, Harry returned to Hogwarts in an upbeat mood. The air was crisp and clean, the skies were blue and the cool air of winter covered the grass and trees with a thin blanket of frost.

“I suppose people will be asking what you got me for Christmas.” Malfoy fell into step next to Harry after a particularly mind-numbing hour of Arithmancy, “I plan to tell them it was expensive.”

Harry glanced at Malfoy and noticed his robes seemed new, albeit just as well-tailored as the old ones. A pleasing scent of light, musky cologne wafted towards Harry as they walked through the corridors. Harry tried to ignore the fact that he apparently now noticed Malfoy’s clothes and aftershave and focused his gaze away from Malfoy. “It’s not very me, though. Buying someone flashy gifts, I mean.”

“Because you’re tight, I suppose?” Malfoy sounded put out. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you and me. I don’t want father to think you’re not that interested. That would never do.”

“People already have the wrong idea,” Harry pointed out. He raised his eyebrows at Malfoy. “What do you expect me to do about it? Shower you with expensive gifts, I suppose. Because I’m not already doing enough.”

“I think we should go to Hogsmeade this weekend,” Malfoy said, ignoring Harry’s complaint. “That should suffice.”

Harry looked at Malfoy in surprise and noticed the light flush rising up his neck. “Hogsmeade? _Together_?”

Malfoy nodded curtly, and the flush deepened. “On Saturday. Well?”

Harry pondered the question. “I suppose it wouldn’t be that terrible.”

“Well thanks very much.” Malfoy narrowed his eyes and Harry met his gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. How does noon at The Three Broomsticks sound?”

“Fine.” Malfoy let out an aggravated huff. He pulled off his Slytherin scarf and handed it to Harry. “Wear that. We’ve got to keep up appearances. Besides, I owe you a scarf.”

Harry laughed and shook his head, fingering the soft wool. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“What the hell am I going to talk to Malfoy about?” Harry rolled onto his side on the sofa with a groan. “So far the only ideas I’ve come up with have been hair gel and Quidditch.”

“Why would you have to talk to him?” Ron stared at Harry.

“We’re going for a drink on Saturday.” Harry held up his hand when Ron started spluttering at him. “I’m pretty sure he just needs to get his dad off his back after the holidays. I don’t think it’s going to be a regular thing.”

“Still.” Ron glared at his parchment and wrote his next paragraph, leaning heavily on the parchment. “He’s bloody lucky you’re being so nice about all this. If I were you, I’d have   
put flobberworms in his bed for a month.”

“Well Harry isn’t you,” Hermione interjected. She softened her words with a smile and tipped her head against Ron’s shoulder. “Not that I don’t appreciate your creative thinking.”

“Of course you do.” Ron slipped his hand into Hermione’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Harry watched Hermione trace lazy patterns on Ron’s leg with her quill and took in the way Ron pulled her close and murmured something in her ear which made her flush pink to the tips of her ears. Ever since the break, something had shifted between Ron and Hermione and now they were much more openly tactile and affectionate with one another.

The all too familiar ache in his heart made Harry swallow, thickly. He turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, racking his brains for possible topics of conversation with Malfoy. When he closed his eyes all he could see was Malfoy wearing his school scarf and speaking to the gathered Slytherins, his expression unusually open and warm.

“Bloody Malfoy,” Harry muttered.

“What was that?” Hermione looked up from her conversation with Ron and gave Harry a questioning smile.

“Nothing.” Harry responded with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Nothing at all.”

“You’re late,” was the first thing Malfoy said when Harry sat down. “Ten minutes late, at least.”

“I got caught up writing an owl to Kingsley.” Harry gave Malfoy a look. “He wanted to know what I was playing at involving myself with your family. Apparently your father’s been saying all sorts at the Ministry. Shacklebolt’s apoplectic.”

Malfoy waved his hand dismissively. “Well as long as father’s busy with work, he won’t be trying to marry me off to a Pureblood witch.”

“This is my _job_ , Malfoy.” Harry leaned forward, angrily. “Kingsley doesn’t like the fact my impartiality has been compromised. You must know your father’s still under Ministry observation?”

Malfoy’s bored expression flickered and his lips pressed together. “My father has already given the Ministry more than enough money to build another floor if they like. I doubt they’re investigating him too closely.”

Harry stared at Malfoy, his cheeks heating with annoyance. “More than enough _bribes_ you mean. I hope you don’t think that’s the kind of thing that makes people turn a blind eye to the stuff he got up to during the war?”

“It’s enough to keep him out of Azkaban.” Malfoy glared at Harry. “Money talks, Potter. Even your precious Minister knows that.”

“You’re wrong.” Harry clenched his fists by his side and spoke with an angry hiss. “The Ministry doesn’t operate like that, not anymore. Your father isn’t out of the woods yet, whatever you might think. You can’t just pay your way out of things or force people to pretend to like you just because it suits you! That’s not how life works.”

A flicker of hurt crossed Malfoy’s face before he steeled himself and jabbed his finger towards Harry. “You think you know everything, but you’ve got no fucking idea. This arrangement of ours suits you too – you can keep being poor, scared, Potter, pretending to fuck someone just so you don’t have to experience it – just so you don’t have to _accept_ it.”

Harry’s mind whirled and he tried to clear his racing thoughts. “This is about your stupid arrangement and your arse of a father putting my job at risk. This has nothing to do with my personal life.”

“What fucking personal life?” Malfoy snorted and sat back with a scowl. “You mean watching Weasley and Granger moon over one another? Or drinking coffee with one of your Ravenclaw sycophants in a desperate attempt to pretend you’re _straight_? Or perhaps you mean sitting here with me, hoping I might tell you what it feels like to have another man take you against a wall or slide his fingers through his hair. You want it so much it kills you, Potter. I can _feel_ it.” 

Harry’s body hummed with energy and Malfoy’s words unsettled him in a way he certainly wasn’t going to admit to Malfoy. He narrowed his eyes and continued to glare. “You have no idea. I’m not frightened of anything, you bloody prat. You haven’t exactly given me the chance to go and experience any of it for myself because I’m supposed to be – how did you put it – devoted to _you_.”

Malfoy’s lips curved into a dangerous smile and he leaned forward, until his breath ghosted over Harry’s face. “Well I would be happy to show you. If you’re so fucking brave.”

Harry stilled, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. When he spoke, his voice lacked its usual conviction and he faltered. “What are you saying?”

Malfoy stood and made his way to the door without responding. He looked over his shoulder and gave Harry a lazy wink, before exiting the pub. A blast of cool air hit Harry in the face, chilling him. He tugged Malfoy’s scarf closer to his neck and stood to follow Malfoy. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.” Malfoy met Harry outside and nodded towards a narrow passage to the side of the pub. Without waiting for a response, he wandered away from Harry and passed through the small entrance.

Harry gulped and followed Malfoy, the wintery light fading as he entered the small space. “I don’t know what you think we’re going to do, but-”

“Shut up, Potter.” Malfoy cut Harry off mid-sentence. With a predatory look that made Harry’s heartbeat quicken, Malfoy pressed Harry close to the wall and their lips connected in a hard kiss.

Harry’s first thought was to push Malfoy backwards as hard as possible. His second was to raise his hands to the stupid scarf which had started this whole thing, and pull Malfoy deeper into the kiss. Malfoy’s sharp-edged body pressed against Harry’s. Bony hips pressed against him, and Malfoy’s slim fingers slid into Harry’s hair. 

Malfoy could _kiss_.

The unexpected thought made Harry smile against Malfoy’s lips, which prompted another fierce kiss from Malfoy as if urging Harry to take this seriously. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed Harry and a rough groan fell from his lips. He ran his hands down Malfoy’s back which made Malfoy press closer with a groan. Harry pushed his hand into Malfoy’s hair and the soft strands tickled his fingers. Malfoy kissed urgently, as if it might be his only chance. Harry responded with equal fervour, the strangeness of the situation making him more alive to Malfoy’s touch than he had been to anyone else before Malfoy.

“Is that enough to help you work things out?” Malfoy pulled back and looked at Harry with dark eyes, his voice rough. Before Harry could respond, Malfoy pushed Harry hard against the wall again and gripped his jumper. “You’re such a sanctimonious arse. Such a fucking self-righteous _idiot_. I wish I could hate you, Potter. I wish I could _hate_ you.”

Harry stared at Malfoy and shook his head, his voice rough. “No you don’t.”

With another low moan, Harry turned them around to press Malfoy against the wall. Before Malfoy could argue, Harry kissed him again.


	4. Chapter 4

_“He would stare at empty chairs, think of the ghosts that once sat there…the ghosts that broke my heart before I met you...lover please, do not fall to your knees, it’s not like I believe in everlasting love…”_

\- Laura Marling, Ghosts 

“I’m hoping that, for once, the rumours aren’t true.”

When Harry sat next to Ron and Hermione at dinner, he found Ron looking slightly ill and Hermione watching him with concern.

“Rumours?” The memory of Malfoy’s hands roaming over his body brought heat to Harry’s cheeks and he swallowed. He resisted the urge to run his fingers over his lips, which suddenly felt as if they had Malfoy’s kisses written all over them. “What rumours?”

“The ones about you and Malfoy snogging up a storm in Hogsmeade.” Ron pulled a face and shuddered. “Please tell me you didn’t, mate.”

Dreading the response, Harry looked over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy met his gaze and responded with a glare. Dismissing Harry, Malfoy turned to Nott and muttered something which made them both laugh. With a sigh, Harry pushed his food around his plate.

“Will you punch me if I tell you there might be a bit of truth in the rumours?” Miserable, Harry turned to Ron who looked slightly green.

“I won’t punch you. We’re best mates. Even if you’re clearly fucking _mental_.” Ron pointed his fork at Harry. “It’s Malfoy, Harry. The one who thinks it’s hilarious to joke about how poor people are – the one who tried to kill Dumbledore.” Ron stabbed his fork into a potato and Harry winced. “That obnoxious ferret-faced git put you under the Imperius Curse, it’s the only explanation. Don’t worry. We’ll rescue you.”

“Thanks, I don’t need rescuing.” Harry held up his hands and gave Ron a small smile. “No Unforgivables were cast, I promise. The snogging was all me. Well, not _all_ me.”

“I’d rather not know the details.” Ron grimaced and shot Harry a pleading look. “You know, I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind helping out if you just want to see what it’s like?”

“It’s not about that.” Horrified, Harry shook his head before Ron could start offering him up to be deflowered by various members of the Weasley family. “It’s not about experimenting or trying things out. It just happened.”

“With _Malfoy._ It just happened with Malfoy.” Ron rolled his eyes and took a forkful of his food, clearly put out.

“What possessed you, Harry?” Hermione leaned forward, and lowered her voice. “I mean, I know he’s very _attractive_ , but you can’t let that sway your judgment.”

“You think Malfoy’s attractive?” Harry and Ron responded in unison. 

Ron’s face took on an almost puce hue and he glared at Hermione. “Since when do you think Malfoy’s attractive?”

Hermione patted Ron’s hand and rolled her eyes. “Not as attractive as you, of course. But he’s obviously good-looking. Harry thinks so too.”

“No I don’t!” Harry shook his head and cast another quick glance at Malfoy. 

There was no doubt Malfoy had a snooty look about him which Harry didn’t like much. But the memory of Malfoy’s slim body pressed against him made his body respond with eager readiness. The sculpted lines of Malfoy’s face appealed to Harry and the way his lips curved into a knowing smile made Harry think about kissing them – firmly and often. His cheeks heated again and he pulled his gaze away from Malfoy before Ron caught him gawping.

“You certainly seem to watch him enough.” Hermione narrowed her eyes with suspicion and turned to look at the Slytherin table as if Malfoy could hear their discussion. “If that’s what you want though, we’ll support you.”

“We will?” Ron looked up from his food. He glanced at Hermione and then turned back to Harry with a sigh. “Yeah, I suppose we will. As long as we don’t have to spend too much time with him. I can only take Malfoy in small doses.”

“Thanks.” Harry forced a smile and allowed himself to look at Malfoy one more time. Their eyes met and a spark of desire caused Harry to shift uncomfortably. He poured himself another glass of pumpkin juice and forced himself to look away. “I don’t bloody know, maybe I do think he’s good-looking.” Harry pushed away his food, his appetite lost. “How did I get in this mess?”

“Just be careful,” Hermione cautioned.

Harry watched Malfoy leave the Great Hall with Nott, without a backward glance.

“Bit late for that.”

“What are you doing here?”

When Harry opened the door to Snape’s rooms, he was surprised to see Malfoy on the sofa staring at the fire. Malfoy had obviously used magic to get the fire working, and the room had a cosy feel to it. The flickering flames cast an orange light around the room and made Malfoy’s pale face glow strangely in the dusty room.

“You were right – nobody ever comes here.” Malfoy looked up and pulled a face. “No one but you. I needed to think.”

Harry resisted the urge to throttle Malfoy for intruding on his one safe space. “Well now _I_ need to think. Alone.”

Malfoy snorted and gestured to the sofa. “Sit down, Potter. We don’t have to talk.” He kept his expression carefully neutral. “Or snog.”

“That was a stupid idea.” Harry sat next to Malfoy and dropped his head into his hands. Even now, Malfoy’s proximity sent a spark of pleasure through him. “Really bloody stupid.”

“I’m sure you think it was.” Malfoy’s voice seemed distant and far away. “You think you’re too good for me, I expect.”

“I just don’t think we’d be any good for one another, that’s all.” Harry lifted his head and took in Malfoy’s tense, angry posture. “Don’t get bent out of shape. I’m sure you regret it as much as I do.”

“Are you?” Malfoy finally faced Harry, his face twisted. “You’re so sure you know everything about me, I suppose. It must be nice to be you with all of your confidence and popularity. Everyone’s favourite hero.”

“It’s not like that.” Harry winced at Malfoy’s words. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing when it comes to this – I’ve already told you that. Give me another Voldemort to kill any day,” he muttered. “Much less complicated.”

Malfoy settled back on the sofa and he studied Harry. “What if I told you I wanted to do it again?”

Harry swallowed and he shifted uncomfortably in his place. “Right now?”

Malfoy’s lips curved into a smile and he moved closer to Harry. “Seems as good a time as any.”

“I probably wouldn’t say no.” Harry’s voice sounded thin and uncertain to his ears, and he cursed himself for being so easily flustered by Malfoy. This was different to snogging in an alley in the middle of Hogsmeade. This was him and Malfoy in a place nobody would think to look for them. There was a sofa, a crackling fire and Harry’s skin prickled with anticipation. He brushed his fingers against Malfoy’s leg and finally met his eyes, finding Malfoy’s expression caught between hope and desire.

Malfoy pushed Harry back onto the sofa none too gently, and settled over him. The weight of Malfoy’s slim body over his, left Harry’s breathless. He couldn’t resist rocking up towards Malfoy, as his cock hardened. He moved a hand to Malfoy’s hair and toyed with the silky strands.

“It’s a bit different to a filthy alley.” Malfoy echoed Harry’s thoughts. His breath ghosted over Harry’s face, and he smelled of oranges and peppermint. “A bit more…intimate.”

Harry’s breathing hitched and all he could do was nod in response. He slipped his fingers over Malfoy’s face and traced the sharp lines of his features. “I’ll say.”

“Harry…” For the first time, Malfoy looked uncertain. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Confused, Harry dropped his hand to Malfoy’s shoulder. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t be kind.” Malfoy tried to glare at Harry, but his expression flickered. “This is just sex.”

“This?” Harry grinned at Malfoy and stretched his arms over his head to stop himself from touching Malfoy. “I don’t think _this_ is sex.”

“Bugger off.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. 

Malfoy lowered his face to Harry’s and before Harry could respond, he found himself soundly kissed. With a low moan, Harry arched up under Malfoy and moved to touch him.

“Stop.” This time Malfoy’s voice was rough and breathy, and he captured Harry’s hands by the wrists holding them in place. “Just let me take control.”

“Whatever you want, Malfoy.” Harry kept his arms over his head, an involuntary shiver running through his body as he found himself effectively pinned down. His position made the kissing even better, he quickly realised. He found himself responding to Malfoy with embarrassing pleas and moans as he squirmed beneath him. This time Malfoy didn’t simply snog Harry senseless. He seemed less urgent, and took his time to kiss damp paths down Harry’s neck until Harry lost the ability to speak.

“So fucking lovely.” Malfoy’s words left him in a sigh, and he worked open the buttons to Harry’s shirt. “Don’t make me stop.”

“I won’t – don’t want to stop.” Harry gasped out his words when Malfoy latched onto his nipple and did a sinful thing with his tongue and his teeth. The fire heated Harry’s bare chest, and every touch from Malfoy sent shivers of pleasure through his body. He watched Malfoy make a very determined path down Harry’s body, his tongue leaving a slick line on Harry’s torso. 

When Malfoy reached Harry’s trousers and pulled at the buckle, Harry reached down and finally allowed himself to touch Malfoy. He tangled his hand into his hair and mustered all of his control to speak levelly. “Malfoy…are you…sure?”

Malfoy looked up and shook his head with an aggravated huff. “Be quiet, Potter. Now is not the time to be noble. Just enjoy yourself for once.”

Harry swallowed and nodded in response. Malfoy finally tugged down Harry’s trousers and pants and let out a low, appreciative groan which made Harry’s cock twitch in response. 

“Is everything about you bloody perfect?” Malfoy glared at Harry.

Harry grinned at Malfoy and shrugged. The response elicited a wicked smile from Malfoy, and he ducked his head.

When Malfoy’s mouth pressed over his cock, Harry couldn’t hold back a low shout of pleasure. He clenched his hand in Malfoy’s hair and tried to stop himself from coming. The tight, hot heat of Malfoy around his aching cock was like nothing Harry had ever experienced. Malfoy did something with his tongue which nearly tipped Harry over the edge. He found himself thrusting into Malfoy’s mouth and finally let himself go with a shout of pleasure. The speed with which he reached completion left Harry mortified and he dropped back onto the sofa with a groan.

“Sorry…bloody fantastic.”

“It was your first blowjob, Potter. Of course you came quickly.” Malfoy moved over Harry again and looked momentarily uncertain. 

“Come here.” His voice lazy with arousal, Harry tugged Malfoy into a heated kiss. Exploring Malfoy’s mouth with his taste on Malfoy’s lips sent another jolt of need through Harry. He worked his hand under Malfoy’s shirt and traced his belly with his fingers, noticing how Malfoy sucked inwards as Harry’s fingers moved over his skin. “It’s my turn, now.”

“Well, just make sure you don’t use your teeth.” Malfoy rolled onto his back and let Harry move over him, arching up when Harry unbuckled his belt. 

“You’ll have to walk me through it.” Harry winked at Malfoy and slid down his body with more confidence than he felt. He pushed Malfoy’s shirt up to get the best view, and tugged off Malfoy’s trousers and pants, kicking his off in the process. He took in the sight of Malfoy’s cock, his mouth dry and his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

Malfoy’s cock was slimmer and longer than Harry’s. Harry took a moment to feel the hard length beneath his fingers, and brushed his lips over Malfoy’s stomach. Malfoy twitched beneath his touch and the scent of Malfoy left Harry heady with arousal. He wanted to taste him – he wanted Malfoy to thrust up roughly in his mouth – he wanted to experience _everything_.

He slid his tongue along Malfoy’s length and groaned when Malfoy clenched his hand into his hair. Taking care not to inflict his teeth on Malfoy, Harry pressed slowly over his cock. He wrapped his hand around the base and shifted to move as Malfoy had. He was soon rewarded by Malfoy bucking into his mouth. He let out a hum of pleasure around Malfoy and flicked his tongue over the tip of Malfoy’s cock to taste the salty flavour of him. With another low groan, Harry pressed back down over Malfoy and continued to suck and taste him. When Malfoy tugged at his hair and let out urgent pleas of _Potter_ and _don’t stop_ , Harry’s enthusiasm increased still further.

He took Malfoy as deep into his mouth as he could and sucked. With a shout, Malfoy arched beneath him and Harry’s mouth filled with hot liquid. He pulled back slowly and swallowed, swiping his lips with the back of his hand. Malfoy threw his arm over his face, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy.

He looked ruffled and dishevelled. Malfoy’s once carefully styled hair fell over his face and he looked thoroughly shagged out. Harry didn’t think he’d ever wanted Malfoy more. With a burst of happiness, Harry moved Malfoy’s arm from his face and kissed him eagerly. His newfound confidence left Harry eager for more, and he moved his hands over Malfoy’s body, memorising every sharp line and soft curve.

“You’re doing it again.” Eventually, Malfoy pulled back from the kiss and sat up. He grabbed his trousers from the floor and pulled them on, turning his back to Harry as he did them up.

With a frown, Harry pulled on his trousers and put his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. “Doing what?”

“You know exactly what.” Malfoy turned and muttered a curse under his breath when he took in the look on Harry’s face. “This was never supposed to be anything more than a bit of fun. Trust you to go and fuck everything up.”

Malfoy’s words hit Harry like a punch, his earlier happiness replaced with dull anger. “Where do you get off telling me what I should do and what we’re meant to be? You don’t get to decide that – there’s two of us involved.”

“Too involved, now.” Malfoy rubbed his fingers against his forehead and he looked at Harry, distressed. “Don’t you see this can’t end well? Not for either of us.”

“Because you’re a selfish prat, you mean?” Stung by Malfoy’s words, Harry crossed his arms and glared at him. “You pretend to be so experienced but my bet is you don’t have the first clue about any of this – you might know about sex, but I don’t think you know much about anything else.”

“Have you ever thought that’s because I don’t want to know about anything else?” Malfoy’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t want to spend my last year here mooning over you. This was just supposed to be a bit of fun, but then you look at me like-”

“Like _what_?” Harry growled.

Malfoy’s fierce expression crumpled and he turned his back to Harry. “Like it matters. Like _I_ matter.”

Harry drew a shaky breath and he put his hand back on Malfoy’s shoulder, sliding it down his arm to settle on his waist. He pressed his face to Malfoy’s neck and breathed in his scent, once so strange and now so familiar. Draco’s hair tickled his nose and he kissed his neck, wrapping his arms around his waist when Malfoy settled back against his chest.

“You do matter. It all does.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Malfoy sighed and he pressed his cheek to Harry’s head. “Which is why I’m utterly fucked.”

“Did something happen between you and Draco?” Hermione looked up from her parchment and put down her quill.

“Why would you say that?” Harry avoided meeting Hermione’s eyes and continued to write, despite the fact he couldn’t concentrate on anything.

“He seems to be avoiding you.” Hermione sounded concerned. “No offence.”

“None taken.” Harry pressed his quill hard enough against the parchment to draw a deep blob of ink onto the paper. Hermione was right. Malfoy was avoiding him. Whenever he came out of classes, Malfoy ducked down the corridor and disappeared out of sight. He kept Nott close by at all times, as if Harry might jump on him and start snogging him in the middle of the corridor if he didn’t have sufficient protection. With a groan, Harry put down his quill and finally met Hermione’s questioning gaze. “It’s a bloody mess.”

“So I was right.” Hermione shook her head and squeezed Harry’s hand. “Oh, Harry. I’m sorry, I worried something like this might happen.”

“You worried Malfoy would suck me off and then stop speaking to me?” Harry arched his eyebrow and smiled despite himself.

“Not exactly.” Hermione flushed and laughed. “I did worry Draco might not be able to handle things going further, though.”

“You did?”

“It’s you and Malfoy.” Hermione thought for a moment. “He’s always had this _thing_ about you.”

“He always wanted to see me lose everything,” Harry muttered.

“Not quite.” Hermione shook her head. “Besides, he’s changed. My guess is he’s finding this whole thing just as confusing as you are. I don’t think he ever really expected you to reciprocate and now you have – well – he’s got no idea how to deal with it.” Hermione smiled softly. “You don’t even see it, do you?”

“See what?” Harry’s cheeks heated as Hermione gave him a look. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Hermione laughed and picked up her quill. She turned the page of her book with an amused smile. “You don’t even see how easy you are to fall in love with.”

“ _Love_?” Harry stared at Hermione who started writing again. “Malfoy’s not in love with me, are you mad?”

Hermione didn’t look up from her book, but Harry caught her question.

“Isn’t he?”


	5. Chapter 5

_“Breathe me with your hands, show me a safe place and I'll come down…can you recognize the look upon my face? It's on my lips, it's in my eyes. There will always be another time for us to fall in love, but it never cuts you quite as deep as that first time”_

\- Vance Joy, First Time 

Hermione’s words played on Harry’s mind as he tossed and turned in bed. Malfoy’s face haunted him and eventually he got up. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, hoping the icy blast would wipe the images of Malfoy from his brain. With a sigh, he gathered his invisibility cloak around him and pulled on his shoes. He slipped out of the room and into the corridors, making his way to the dungeons.

He reached Snape’s quarters and pushed open the door to find himself met by a startled looking Malfoy, whose face was streaked with tears.

“Who is it? Show yourself.” Malfoy pointed his wand squarely at Harry’s chest with a snarl.

“It’s me, Malfoy. Just me.” Harry pulled off the cloak and dropped it to the floor. 

“I might have known.” Malfoy pocketed his wand after flicking it at the door to shut it behind Harry. “Can’t I get a bit of peace and quiet anymore?”

“This was _my_ place. If you don’t want company, find your own abandoned room to sit in.” Harry glared at Malfoy and pushed past him to sit on the sofa. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

“The same as you, I expect.” Malfoy sat next to Harry and gave him an odd look. “Wondering what the fuck we’re doing.”

“Making amends?” With a weak smile, Harry reached for Malfoy. He brushed a strand of hair from Malfoy’s face and swallowed at the forlorn look Malfoy gave him. “Everything okay?”

“Not really.” Malfoy leaned into Harry’s hand. “I really do dislike you, Potter. Quite a lot.”

“I’m sure you do.” Harry brushed his thumb against Malfoy’s cheek and shifted closer. “I don’t dislike you very much anymore. The opposite, really.”

“Potter…” Malfoy swallowed. He closed the distance between them and kissed Harry fiercely.

Before he lost himself completely in Malfoy’s kisses, Harry pulled back. He tried to steady his breathing and dropped his head onto Malfoy’s shoulder, his voice low and rough. “Not yet. I’m not going to have you push me away again afterwards. It was a shitty thing to do.”

“I won’t.” Malfoy’s voice sounded smaller than usual and he stroked his fingers over Harry’s back. “No more running. You’re stuck with me.”

“Well, then.” Harry lifted his head and captured Malfoy’s lips in another kiss. This time he took his time, exploring Malfoy slowly. 

Malfoy responded eagerly, and pulled at Harry’s pyjamas until there was nothing between them. Harry’s sucked in a breath when Malfoy stood. He was too skinny, with sharp angles. His face held a pinched, uncertain look and his legs were covered with a light, downy spray of blond hair. He had a thin scar which ran from his hip to the top of his thigh, and in the flickering light of the fire, his skin looked almost translucent. None of his imperfections mattered. Harry longed to trail his tongue over the thin scar. He wanted to feel the sharp edges of Malfoy’s body beneath the palms of his hands, and he wanted to take his time tasting every inch of Malfoy’s skin. To Harry’s eyes, Malfoy was _perfect_.

“Come on then, Potter.” Malfoy flicked his wand to cast a cleaning charm on the rug. He stretched out in front of the fire and gave Harry a lazy smile. He patted the rug beside him and watched Harry with dark eyes. “Are you coming or aren’t you?”

Harry bit back a quick reply because now didn’t feel like the time. He stood and felt Malfoy’s eyes on his body, which responded quickly to Malfoy’s open stare. With a low groan, he settled next to Malfoy and stretched out next to him. Their bodies pressed together and Malfoy pulled Harry into another deep kiss.

Unlike last time, Harry made sure he could feel every inch of Malfoy’s body. When Malfoy reciprocated by trailing his hands down Harry’s back to his backside, Harry thought he might actually come on the spot. He pressed back into Malfoy’s hands and let out a low murmur of appreciation.

“It’s good…”

“It gets better.” Malfoy smirked against Harry’s skin and pushed him back onto the rug. The coarse fibres scratched at Harry’s skin. The heat from the fire and Malfoy’s kisses left him dizzy.

“At this rate I won’t last long,” Harry murmured against Malfoy’s lips. “I want to do it. Before I...”

Instead of teasing Harry, Malfoy sat up and pushed Harry’s legs apart. He considered Harry carefully and slid his fingers along Harry’s inner thigh, sending sparks of pleasure through Harry. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Harry licked his lips, aware that his mouth had gone suddenly dry. Perhaps he was mental, just like Ron said. After all, he was stretched out on a rug in Snape’s old rooms, about to lose his virginity to Draco Malfoy. If the moment hadn’t been what it was, Harry would almost have found his current situation funny.

“What’s on your mind?” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed as his fingers continued their maddening dance along Harry’s legs.

“Not much. Just thinking it’s all a bit strange. Being here and doing this, I mean.” Harry took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Not exactly what I expected when I decided to come back to school.”

“Not what either of us expected, I’m sure.” Malfoy slid his fingers along Harry’s crease leaving behind a cool, damp substance. With a shiver, Harry reached for Malfoy’s hand and tugged him closer.

“You won’t run off again? Not this time.”

Malfoy simply shook his head. He pressed his ears to Harry’s lips and rubbed his fingers against Harry in a place that sent sparks of pleasure to Harry’s cock. “Relax, Potter. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fucking hell…” Harry let out a huff of breath when Malfoy worked a finger slowly inside him. The sensation and intimacy made his heartbeat quicken. He found himself rocking back against Malfoy, as Malfoy’s movements became firm and quick, assisted by a lubricating charm.

“You like it, don’t you? You’re so eager – I never thought you’d be like this.” Malfoy curled his fingers inside Harry and the pleasure created by Malfoy’s touch left Harry dizzy. The peculiar feeling of being touched in such a familiar way passed, and Harry let himself sink into Malfoy’s kisses and assured touch. 

“Don’t tease me.” Harry let out a groan, his words fragmented and every nerve ending tingling with heightened sensation. Malfoy ignored Harry’s pleas and continued toying with Harry with talented fingers. Malfoy gripped Harry’s cock with his free hand and stroked him with a firm touch. He sat back a little and kept his eyes on Harry’s face, his expression caught between lust and surprise.

“You look so good like this. I never thought…” With a low moan, Malfoy began to kiss and bite at Harry’s skin. He wasn’t gentle or sweet, but his clear desire to please made Harry relax into the motions.

When Malfoy squeezed the base of Harry’s cock and slipped his fingers from Harry’s body, he murmured another lubricating charm.

“You’ll have to teach me that.”

“I’ve got better things to do with you at the moment than practice magic tricks.” Malfoy gave Harry a smirk and nudged him over onto his front. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Missing the connection of being able to see Malfoy, Harry turned over as requested. Malfoy’s bony fingers gripped onto Harry’s hips and his cock pressed against Harry’s entrance. Harry tensed momentarily, until Malfoy’s fingers soothed him with maddening touches along the length of his spine.

When Malfoy pushed into him, Harry let out a cry of pleasure and pain. The stretch was uncomfortable at first and the unexpected fullness left him breathless. When Malfoy rocked slowly, the movements sent waves of heat through Harry and he dropped his head. His breath fell from his lips in gasps, pants and murmured exclamations of pleasure.

“Harry…” Malfoy pressed his lips to Harry’s neck. He flicked his tongue as if to taste the perspiration, and thrust harder into Harry. “Can’t…”

“No, it’s okay.” With a gasp, Harry pushed back against Malfoy. He found himself suddenly desperate to feel Malfoy lose control. He arched his back with a shout when Malfoy’s movements became urgent and frantic. Malfoy wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock and the combined pleasure was almost more than Harry could stand.

When Malfoy twisted his hand around Harry’s cock and angled his thrusts just so, Harry came undone. With a cry of pleasure, he came and clenched down hard around Malfoy. Within moments, he heard Malfoy groan above him and felt an unfamiliar wet sensation. Malfoy slipped slowly out of Harry and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

Harry moved onto his side and watched Malfoy. As the heat of the moment dissipated, a strange and unfamiliar vulnerability crept over Harry. He reached out his hand to run his fingers over Malfoy’s chest. The trembling in his fingers surprised him, and he clenched his hand into a fist over Malfoy’s chest in an effort to steady it.

With a curious look, Malfoy reached for Harry’s hand. He tipped his head to the side and gave Harry a slow smile. He lifted Harry’s hand to his lips and kissed it. From Malfoy – from anyone – it was possibly the sweetest, most reassuring gesture Harry had ever seen. The desire for reassurance and vague promises melted away. He settled next to Malfoy and they watched the fire turn to embers, their fingers twined tightly together.

“So you’re really together, then?” Ron looked flummoxed. Madam Pince pressed her finger to her lips and glared at Ron. He rolled his eyes and stuffed his books into his bag, nodding towards the door.

Harry followed, and fell into step with Ron when they left the library. “Seems like it.” He looked carefully at Ron. “I know he’s not your favourite person, but are you going to be alright about this?”

“I suppose.” Ron shrugged and he pulled a face. “Hermione tells me I should trust your judgment – that if you can get on with Malfoy there’s just something about him I’m missing. But I promise you, Harry, if I hear you’re shopping at Twilfitt and Tatting’s or having dinner with Lucius Malfoy, I’m going to have to assume you’re under some kind of curse.”

Harry shuddered at the thought of dinner with Lucius Malfoy. “Malfoy’s father is _his_ business – he knows I don’t have any interest in helping him get on at the Ministry. I’ve already spoken to Shacklebolt about it.”

“I bet he’s thrilled to know his new face of the Ministry has allied himself with the Malfoy family.” Ron grimaced. “It’s going to look like they’re using you, mate. I hope you know that.”

“I know what it looks like.” Harry watched his breath leave his mouth in a puff of white, and wrapped his robes around himself. “I’m thinking of giving Skeeter an interview before she starts writing all sorts of nonsense.”

“Why the bloody hell would you do that?” Ron looked at Harry askance.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Harry gave Ron a look, pleading with him to understand. “It’s not just about me and Malfoy. It’s about the whole…wizard thing.”

Ron shrugged. “Well I’m sure Hermione would make placards for you. She’s got all the stuff from the house-elf march she organised over the summer.”

“I don’t want placards, thanks.” Harry laughed and shook his head. “I just want the quiet life, that’s all. I’m not going to put myself in the public eye any more than I have to – not unless I think it’s going to help other people get on with their own lives.”

“The quiet life?” Ron snorted. “Good luck with that, mate.”

Harry stretched out on the rug in front of the fire and winced. “We need to get cushions.”

“And candles, I suppose?” Draco rolled his eyes and settled next to Harry. “There’s always the sofa.”

“I can’t be bothered to move.” Harry tipped his head to look at Draco. He ran his fingers over Draco’s chest and watched him arch under the touch. His heart hammering, he tried to keep his voice steady. “I was wondering…”

“I get the impression I’m not going to like this,” Draco muttered.

“I was wondering,” Harry pressed on, “If maybe we can try things the other way one time?”

Draco stiffened and he caught Harry’s hand, his face expressionless. “Aren’t you happy with the way things are?” He looked irritatingly smug. “You certainly seem to enjoy yourself.”

“I do.” Harry’s cheeks heated and he dropped his hand from Draco’s chest. “You don’t want to?”

Draco winced and he lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I’m not sure. You should know I haven’t done that before.”

“Oh.” Surprised, Harry frowned up at the ceiling. “Well there’s no rush.”

Draco didn’t respond. For a long moment they sat in silence as the fire crackled, before Draco spoke again. “I’ve decided to satisfy your curiosity.”

“You have?” Harry laughed and he turned to face Draco again. “Well give me a minute to recover.”

“Not that.” Draco rolled his eyes and propped himself on his elbow to face Harry. “The potions.”

“I don’t need to know, not if you don’t want to tell me.”

“I think you do.” Draco closed his eyes and settled onto his back again. “I don’t want your pity, Potter.”

“I guessed it was to do with the war.” Harry recalled the vivid nightmares he had at times, which shook him violently from his sleep and left him trembling, his body slick with perspiration. “We all have to cope with memories we’d rather not have.” The image of the Great Hall filled with still, bloodied bodies crept into his mind and he swallowed. 

“You’re not wrong.” Draco shuddered lightly and Harry shifted to rest his head on Draco’s chest. He listened to the steady beat of Draco’s heart and closed his eyes.

“Carry on.” 

Draco slid his hand into Harry’s hair and toyed with the messy strands. He took a deep breath and Harry felt the rise and fall of his chest.

“There was a time when I thought I wouldn’t come back to Hogwarts at all. Father wanted to ship me off somewhere he wouldn’t have to deal with me.” Draco’s bitterness tugged at Harry’s heartstrings and not for the first time his anger with Lucius Malfoy bubbled furiously in his chest. “Father felt I couldn’t return to school with my mind as it was. He expressed concern about the way in which other Slytherins might deal with my dreams and my…anxiety.”

Harry looked up and furrowed his brow. “Your father is an idiot. I’m sorry, Malfoy. There’s no polite way to say it.”

Draco waved Harry’s comment away, his expression neutral. “My father is, however, my _father_. Whatever mistakes he has made.” Draco’s closed expression faltered and hurt crossed his features, the fierce intensity of his emotions causing Harry to reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly. 

“What did you say to get him to change his mind?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Draco replied, tightly. “McGonagall paid him a visit. I wasn’t party to the discussions, but when she left he was furious. He told me I was going back to Hogwarts and there were to be no more questions asked. When I arrived, McGonagall took me to one side and said Pomfrey had developed a potion which might help suppress the memories for a period of time. She made it clear it would not be a permanent solution, but indicated it would suffice for now. For this year.”

“And after that?” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand again, his voice rough. “After this year?”

“I don’t know, Potter.” Draco’s voice was thin and uncertain. “That’s anybody’s guess.”

“What do you want to do tonight?” Harry pushed the door to Snape’s rooms closed and sat next to Draco on the sofa. “It’s nearly the weekend.”

“And nearly the end of term.” Draco pulled a face. “Which means it’s back to the Manor for me.”

“You could always come to Grimmauld Place?” Harry hesitated and heat rose in his cheeks. “If you wanted.”

“Could I?” Draco gave Harry a strange half-smile before shaking his head. “My mother needs me.”

“But we’ll see each other?”

“It’s only a couple of weeks.” Draco twisted his hands together in his lap and looked away. “It’s not that long.”

“Long enough,” Harry muttered. He wondered when careless fucking and snarky conversation had shifted to this – to a dull ache in his chest at the thought of being apart from Draco for two weeks. He shook himself and leaned back on the sofa. “I’m sure I’ll cope.”

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.” Draco glared at Harry. His cross attitude made Harry smile.

“Come here, you prat.” Harry pulled Draco into a kiss and relaxed into the now familiar touch of Draco’s lips against his. As always, Draco’s hands were rough against Harry’s skin and his passionate touch lit a fire in Harry’s belly which burned fiercely as he grappled with Draco’s shirt in an effort to feel his skin.

“You’re always ready for me.” Draco smiled against Harry’s neck and bit down on his skin lightly, a touch which they had discovered drove Harry to distraction. He slid his hand up Harry’s thigh and covered his cock which strained against his thick jeans. “Will you always be ready for me, Potter? Will you always want me?”

“Always is a long time.” Harry groaned when Draco squeezed him roughly. He hissed when Malfoy bit his neck again, harder this time. “I’ll always want you.” The words fell from his lips as Draco continued to kiss and tease him. “I love you, you bloody idiot.”

Draco stilled and stopped his movements. He lifted his hand from Harry’s jeans and ran his thumb over Harry’s cheek, his expression pained. “No you don’t. You can’t.”

Harry wanted to claw back the words which had come to him so freely, Draco’s face making his heart clench. He spoke with more confidence than he felt, meeting Malfoy’s cool gaze head on. “I do, and I can.” He let out his breath in a huff and waited for Draco to say something - anything at all.

Instead of speaking, Draco ran his fingers over Harry’s face. When they fucked, Draco was rough and urgent. He took Harry’s kisses with biting, urgent need. He took every wonderful liberty with Harry’s body and claimed him, whispering filthy promises until they both came undone, shaking and trembling in one another’s arms. Now, Draco moved with uncharacteristic hesitation. He brushed his thumb over Harry’s scar, and his throat bobbed as he touched Harry’s face.

Breathless, Harry closed his eyes and let Draco continue his exploration. Slim fingers moved over every line and curve of Harry’s face. Eventually, Draco dropped his hand and Harry blinked his eyes open. The flames of the fire sent shadows dancing across Draco’s face. He wiped his hand over his eyes and kept his lips pressed in a firm light.

When he looked back at Harry, Draco didn’t speak. Instead, he moved closer and unbuttoned Harry’s jeans with shaking hands. He brought his lips to Harry’s ear, his voice fragmented and unsteady. 

“I want you to fuck me. Will you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry breathed. He caught Draco’s trembling hand and held it against his heart, meeting Draco’s eyes at last. “Steady. This time I’m in charge.”

Draco responded with a nod, before launching himself at Harry and kissing him. The kiss was tinged with desperation. The fighting and anger of eight years came through in the rough, needy kiss. Harry opened his mouth to Draco and pushed him down, using the same rough confidence Draco seemed to favour. He rocked against Draco’s thigh and tore at his shirt. Draco responded by tugging Harry closer and gripping onto his shirt as if Harry might otherwise leave.

Harry stripped Draco as quickly as he could, between kisses and murmurs of reassurance. When they were both naked, Harry whispered the spell he had heard Draco use on countless occasions. With slick fingers he rubbed his hands over Draco’s backside and into his crease. When he slowly pressed one – and then two – fingers into Draco, his cock jumped with appreciation. The thought of sinking into Draco’s tight heat nearly tipped Harry over the edge.

Draco groaned as Harry worked slowly with his fingers. He sought for the angle which caused him so much pleasure when the roles were reversed. When Draco let out a low cry and arched beneath him, Harry knew he had succeeded. The sight of Draco coming undone beneath him made Harry’s head spin.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this.” Harry moved down Draco’s body, his heart pounding in his chest. He took the opportunity to taste Draco’s skin, trailing tongue along Draco’s scar and moving to his belly button. The scent and taste of Malfoy consumed him. The way Draco clenched around his fingers made Harry groan, and he pushed his fingers harder inside Draco. “I could watch you come just like this. With my fingers and mouth. So fucking _good_.”

Draco didn’t respond, but he let out a low groan which Harry understood to mean _another time_. It always amazed him how he and Draco now understood one another intimately, and he wondered if that fact of life would ever stop surprising him. With shaking hands, Harry slipped his fingers from Draco. He slicked his cock and held himself steady. He pushed Draco’s leg back and pressed against him. When Draco gave Harry a small nod, he filled Draco with one thrust. 

A shout fell from both of their lips simultaneously, and Harry thanked Merlin for decent wards and silencing charms. He captured Draco’s lips in a fierce kiss, every nerve in his body alive with pleasure. He rocked inside Draco, the tight heat like nothing he had ever experienced before. With a groan, he began to move. A wave of relief washed over him when Draco moved back and forth with him, a choked gasp of pleasure falling from his lips.

Harry found it difficult to keep his movements controlled. When Draco clenched around his cock, he fucked Draco as he had often imagined. He took him forcefully and with a desperate, passionate kiss which Draco responded to eagerly. Harry lost himself in Draco’s body and tried to catch every small sigh and moan Draco emitted. When Draco whispered Harry’s name into the dark room, Harry pushed inside him one final time and came with Draco’s name on his lips in response.

He slipped from Draco and moved down his body. He sucked Draco into his mouth, until he thrust deep into Harry’s throat and came with a shout. Harry pulled back and shifted to lie next to Draco. He pressed his hand to Draco’s chest to feel the pounding of his heart.

“Alright?”

“It wasn’t that bad, I suppose.” Draco’s voice held a hint of teasing and Harry grinned in response.

“Piss off, Malfoy.”

“Such a romantic.” Draco snorted softly. He turned his head and captured Harry’s lips in a slow kiss. 

Harry kissed Draco back. He knew in his own way, Draco had responded to Harry’s earlier announcement.

_I love you too._


	6. Chapter 6

_“Tell me now you know somehow, things will turn out right if we stay dressed in our funeral best and sleep with open eyes…I’ll say to you I’ll stay with you until the sun explodes”_

\- The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, Until the Sun Explodes 

“I can’t believe it’s the summer already.” Harry turned and brushed his fingers through Draco’s hair, giving him a smile. “We’re going to leave Hogwarts for good next week – me for the Aurors and you for…” Harry trailed off and his brow furrowed. “What exactly _do_ you plan on doing, Malfoy? You still haven’t said.”

Draco stayed unusually quiet and instead of looking at Harry, he continued to stare at the clouds moving through the bright sky. “Let’s not talk about leaving today. Not when the sun’s shining and everything is perfect.”

“You’re sentimental all of a sudden.” Harry laughed and reached for Draco’s hand, squeezing it. “I reckon you’ll be sad to leave this place after all.”

“Of course I won’t.” Draco huffed and extracted his hand from Harry’s, folding his hands on his chest. “I’m bored of exams and dusty books. When we leave I plan to start _living_.”

“Really?” Harry frowned at Draco’s cross tone and kissed his ear. “I’d say this kind of living feels pretty good to me.”

“You always have to push things.” Draco pushed Harry away with unnecessary force and sat up, his expression fierce. “I’m sick to the back teeth of Hogwarts and only being popular because I’m the great Harry Potter’s boyfriend. It will be a relief to leave at last.”

Stung, Harry pushed himself into a seating position. The warm sun dipped behind a cloud and he glared at Draco. “It sounds as though you’re pretty keen to get away from more than just Hogwarts.”

Draco gave Harry a haughty look and stood, pulling his satchel over his shoulder. “Perhaps I am.”

With a growing sense of trepidation, Harry watched Draco’s retreating back until he disappeared into the castle.

“Are you awake?”

Harry blinked into the darkness of his room and let out a yelp when he focused on Malfoy’s pale face pressed close to his. The moonlight illuminated Malfoy’s sharp, pointed features and made him look almost ghostly. Harry fumbled for his glasses and looked around, speaking with a low hiss. “What the fuck are you doing? McGonagall’s going to have our bollocks for breakfast if she finds you here.”

Draco looked unconcerned. “You’ve got an invisibility cloak, haven’t you? Come on, I want to go for a walk.”

“What time is it?” Grumbling, Harry pulled on his trainers and stood. He reached for his invisibility cloak and glared at Draco, still irritated by his earlier mood. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“It’s three in the morning.” Draco looked smug. “It took a lot of effort to get in here – you should be pleased. You Gryffindors don’t have very inventive passwords, do you? All I had to do was put on your scarf and take a stab that it would be something to do with one of those sponge deserts your lot like so much. Sticky-toffee pudding. I mean _really_.”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and yanked him from the room when Ron let out a particularly loud snore and mumbled something in his sleep. “I suppose the Slytherin passwords are Unforgivables or horrible curses?”

“Oh no, nothing quite so obvious.” Draco looked smug. “Come along, Potter. Don’t dawdle.”

With a growl of aggravation, Harry followed Draco through the common room and out into the corridors. He pressed his finger to his lips and jerked his head towards the Fat Lady who snored softly in her frame. Eventually, they came to a quiet part of the corridors with no portraits that could raise the alarm. Harry turned to Draco and glared at him, his arms folded. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on.” Pink spots flared on Draco’s cheeks. 

Harry snorted. “Pull the other one. You’re stomping off like a spoiled brat one minute and telling me you can’t wait to get away, and the next you’re pulling me out of bed at three in the morning for some kind of stupid adventure.” Harry continued to glare and looked around the empty corridors with a sigh. “Do you want to go to Snape’s rooms?”

“Not this time.” Draco looked up at the staircases which moved eerily above their heads, stretching almost endlessly into the darkness. “This time I want to go to the Room of Requirement.”

Harry swallowed, and he fought the desire to reach for Draco. Something felt decidedly off and Draco’s insistence that they go to the Room of Requirement didn’t assuage his concerns. “You hate that place.”

“I did.” Draco shrugged. “Perhaps I’m hoping it will give me what I require this time.” With a faint smile, Draco made his way up the stairs without looking back at Harry.

Frowning, Harry caught up with Draco and wandered next to him in silence. Their footsteps echoed through the corridors and Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched by the ghosts of the dead. The distant memory of tumultuous yells and cries filled his senses and the sound of Fenrir laughing made him shudder. The paintings whispered and sang, while the haunting laughter of Bellatrix seemed to claw at Harry’s mind as they walked. 

“I hope you’re going to tell me what’s going on when we finally get there,” Harry muttered. The closer they got to the Room of Requirement, the more convinced Harry became that something was wrong.

“You’re always such a pessimist. Maybe I’ve just dragged you out of bed for a late night fumble and a change of scenery. Snape’s rooms smell like mouldy flobberworms.”

“You’ve never complained before.” Harry snorted and shook his head. “I suppose now it’s nearly the end of term, everything’s changing. Is that what this is about?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Draco’s evasive response infuriated Harry. He gripped Draco’s arm and pulled him to a halt, his grasp rougher than he had intended. 

“If you want to finish things before term ends just tell me now. Don’t drag me half-way around the school and expect a room to do the job for you.”

Draco gave Harry a peculiar smile. When he spoke, his voice was cool. “You still think I’m that much of a coward, Potter?”

“I don’t think you’re a coward at all.” Disgruntled, Harry muttered a curse under his breath. “I think you can be an obnoxious prat and I also think there’s something you don’t want to tell me.” He let out a huff of aggravation and folded his arms. “Just spit it out!” 

“Just come to the Room of Requirement with me.” Draco met Harry’s gaze head on, and the depth of emotion etched on his face made Harry shiver. “Please?”

Swallowing thickly, Harry nodded. He fell into step next to Draco and their footsteps continued to echo around them.

“This isn’t what I expected.” Draco looked around the Room of Requirement with a frown. “Why is it empty?”

“I have no idea.” Harry ran his fingers over the stone wall and shivered. The room was completely bare. “What were you expecting?”

Draco leaned against the wall and looked at the ceiling which stretched higher above them than Harry could remember. “I expected it to help. This is fucking useless. Stupid room.”

Harry would have laughed at Draco’s huffing over an empty room, had he not been so certain Draco had bad news. 

“Maybe it’s giving us exactly what we need – no distractions.”

Draco frowned and looked at Harry. “Distractions?”

“Nothing to distract from the fact it’s just you, me and whatever it is you’re trying to avoid telling me.” Harry settled next to Draco and tipped his head back against the stone. The bricks were cool against his skin and he stretched his hand out so his fingers touched Draco’s briefly. Draco responded by brushing his fingers over Harry’s and keeping their hands together – a fleeting touch, just at the fingertips.

“I’m leaving.” Draco’s words came out in a rush.

Harry swallowed back a wave of panic and made light of the comment. “I know you’re leaving. We all are.”

“Not Hogwarts, you prat.” Draco rolled his eyes but otherwise continued to avoid Harry’s gaze. “I’m leaving England.”

“When?” Harry’s voice cracked. “And more importantly _why_?”

“My father’s sending me to America. After we finish our exams.” Draco’s voice faltered. “He wants me to see a therapist. A _specialist_.”

“Tell him to piss off.” Harry turned his head to the side and watched Draco’s throat working. “You don’t need therapy. You need your dad to stop interfering in your life.”

“Don’t I?” Draco shrugged and pushed himself off the wall. He paced restlessly. “I told you Pomfrey’s potions have a limited time span. McGonagall always said I would need to learn to deal with things in a different way once school was finished. Father already thinks I’m too dependent on the potions, and I think he’s right.”

“What else does your father think you’re too dependent on?” Harry gritted his teeth and balled his hands tightly together. “I bet he’s got some views on me too.”

“Of course.” Draco winced and looked at Harry. “He doesn’t say so to my face, but this is all part of a bigger plan.”

“There must be other potions.” Harry racked his brains, wishing not for the first time that he’d paid more attention in class. “You’re not the only one left with nightmares after the war. I’m not sure why America’s the only answer.”

Draco shrugged. “Based on father’s justifications they have a very specific ingredient which would take months to gain Ministry clearance over here. Not to mention this _friend of the family_ , who, from the sounds of things, is good at curing all sorts of _queer_ problems.”

“He can’t be trying to send you to therapy for being gay?” Harry’s protests fell on deaf ears and he knew very well that Lucius Malfoy was capable of doing just that.

“You know my father well enough by now, Harry. He’ll find a way to get his way in the end.”

“Then I’ll come with you.” Harry ignored the inner voice shouting about his job at the Ministry. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”

Draco shook his head. “That isn’t part of father’s plan. If we try to do that, he’s going to interfere to make it impossible for you to come with me.”

Harry’s heart clenched in his chest. His skin felt hot and his stomach turned. “Then we’ll make it work from a distance. It’s not going to be forever, and we can pick up where we left off when you get back.”

“Harry…” Draco finally stopped pacing and stood opposite Harry. His face crumpled and his eyes took on a fierce, wretched look. “It’s no good, don’t you see? He’ll make sure we’re not together – one way or another. It was just a bit of foolish experimentation, he said. Now’s the time to find a witch and settled down.” Draco choked on his words. He pressed close to Harry finally closing the distance between them. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t think I can.”

“Then we’ll run away.” A rush of energy overtook the nagging doubt in Harry’s mind and he tugged Draco close. He breathed in the familiar scent of Draco and stroked his hand through Draco’s hair. “We’ll run away and he can get stuffed. I’ve got money – not as much as you, but more than enough to live on. We can go anywhere you want.”

“You always do this,” Draco whispered. He pressed his lips to Harry’s in a fierce, angry kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes shone and his lip trembled. “You’re too bloody noble for your own good.” Draco ran his thumb over Harry’s lip and he smiled, a strange, sad sort of smile. “You’re tired of being a hero. You said so yourself. I don’t intend to make you mine.”

“You’re being a prat.” Harry shook himself free of Draco’s grasp and tried to cling on to the ember of hope which still burned within him. “I’m not being heroic, I’m giving you options – a choice.”

“And your job at the Ministry?” Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry. “Weasley, Granger and all the other people that depend on you? You’re telling me you would just…run away? You couldn’t.” He held up his hand when Harry began to protest. “And even if you could, I wouldn’t let you. Let me do one thing right. Give me that.”

“It’s just a job.” Feeling any semblance of control slipping from his grasp, Harry returned to Draco’s arms and pressed their foreheads together. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter, not like this.”

Instead of replying straight away, Draco kissed Harry again. His lips tasted lightly salty, as if he had cried earlier that evening. Images of Draco staring at the ceiling in his room and thinking about the future – a future without him – made Harry desperately sad. He sank into the familiar sensation of Draco’s kisses, but drew little pleasure from them for the first time since their first kiss all those months ago.

“Thank you for fighting for me.” Draco’s lips continued their path from the corner of Harry’s mouth to the line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. “Thank you for trying.”

“I’ll keep fighting,” Harry responded, stubbornly. He pushed Draco back because when he kissed Harry like that, it was difficult to breathe. “Your father won’t get away with this.”

“He already has.” Draco’s lip curled. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to watch people die at the end of my father’s wand. I didn’t want to hear wizards, witches, and Muggles screaming as Fenrir took his time _enjoying_ them. I keep thinking he’ll come back and he’ll make me kill you – or he’ll take my mother and torture her until she begs him to let her die. He was good at that, you know. Good at making people wish for death because the alternative he offered was just too horrible to contemplate.” 

“None of us asked for it.” Harry adjusted his clothes and glared at Draco. “That doesn’t mean you still have to live in fear. Your father’s nothing without Voldemort to hide behind. I haven’t gone through a war just to end up frightened of Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco’s lips curved into a queer smile. “You know what else I didn’t ask for? I didn’t ask to fall in love with Harry fucking Potter. I didn’t want any of this – it was just supposed to be a bit of fun. _Fucking_. Something to pass the time. I didn’t expect you to go all moony eyed over me of all people. If I’d wanted that kind of complication I could have stayed with Pansy – at least I wouldn’t be sent to the other side of the world if I was still with her.”

Harry stared at Draco. Fury rose in his chest until he saw red and he shoved Draco back, hard. “Do you think I wanted any of this either? You’re so fucking ready to blame everyone for the way you feel. I remember a time when the _Dark Lord_ didn’t look so frightening – a time when you thought killing Muggles for sport was _hilarious_. You might not have asked for it, but you sure as hell weren’t complaining when you thought being in Voldemort’s pocket would make your father powerful. You’ve never been able to stand up to him, even when you know what he’s doing is totally fucked up. You won’t be happy until your father dies!” 

Draco stepped back from Harry as if he’d been slapped. His cheeks flushed pink and his eyes flashed with anger. He sneered and his face twisted. “You’re just jealous because I have a father. Do you know how pathetic you are? You follow Weasley around like he’s a fucking _prince_ just so his mum and dad can adopt you and treat you like the hero son they never had. But you’ll never be one of them – you’ll never have their _blood_. The only family you’ve ever known was a fucked up drunk who could turn into a mongrel. Now you’re living in _my_ family’s home, surrounded by Dark Arts and shadows. You think you’re so good, so pure. You’re just a stupid idiot. An idiot who spends his time mooching around the rooms of the dead in the hope they might give a shit about you – which he wouldn’t, by the way. Snape wouldn’t come back here, dead or alive, because it would mean having to speak to sanctimonious pricks like _you_.”

“You’re pathetic,” Harry growled. He moved to the door and wrenched it open but it wouldn’t move. “I need to get out. I want to get out.” His chest was tight and his hands balled into fists. He banged at the door in a futile attempt to open it, but nothing happened. He dropped his forehead against the wood and tried to breathe, a wave of anger and sadness leaving him weak at the knees. He choked back a sob and banged at the door again – determined not to let Malfoy see one minute more of his pain. When Malfoy’s hand settled on Harry’s shoulder, he spun around and lashed out. His fists landed on Malfoy’s chest and he hit him until Malfoy caught his hands by the wrists.

“Stop it. Harry, stop, before I punch you in the face.” 

Harry stopped his movements and tried to collect himself. Instead of pushing him away or turning on him furiously, Draco pulled Harry into his arms. He slipped his hand into Harry’s hair and stroked his fingers through the messy tangle. Instead of pulling Harry into a kiss and effectively shutting him up, Draco just held him close until his fury dissipated.

“I hate you sometimes.” Harry gulped back another wave of emotion and pressed his cheek to Draco’s. “Sometimes I hate you so much I can hardly stand it.”

“Me too, Potter.” Draco sighed and pressed his cool cheek close to Harry’s. He ran his hands over Harry’s back and swallowed, keeping him close. “Me too.”


	7. Chapter 7

_“I'll wait here for you for…I'm broken…Down by the people if they let you breathe. Don't give a damn if you still can't see, still my heart beats for you”_

\- Jake Bugg, Broken 

“Come to Grimmauld Place, why don’t you?” Harry sighed and looked around the house with a groan. “That’s going to be a brilliant place to spend our last night. It’s not at all dark and depressing. Not to mention you probably think it’s rightfully yours.”

He pulled a face and wondered again why in the name of Merlin he’d suggested Draco come to Grimmauld Place. He had made the bed twice and coerced a very reluctant Kreacher into helping him get rid of the worst of the dust. No matter how hard Harry tried however, he couldn’t make Grimmauld Place light and bright. He couldn’t make it feel like _home_.

“I’m sorting this place out this year. Just you wait and see,” Harry muttered to himself. 

“Potter?” Draco cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

Harry turned to the fireplace and shook his head, his cheeks heating. “This house is enough to drive anyone mental. I was talking to myself.”

“I thought as much.” Draco looked around the room and nodded. “This is what I call a proper house.”

Harry laughed despite himself. “I was just thinking it needs work. A change of wallpaper at least, not to mention new furniture. That sofa must be a hundred years old.”

Draco looked askance. “More than that. It’s _antique_ , Potter. Have you got no taste at all?”

“Apparently not.” Harry gestured to the dark hallways. “I’d show you around, but you probably know more about the place than I do.”

“Black family property.” Draco winced when Walburga Black made a scathing comment about living in sin. “Naturally. A nice family heirloom you’ve got there, Potter. Please do feel free to keep it.”

“How long do you have?”

“My Port Key leaves first thing.” Draco unwound his scarf from his neck. The gold and burgundy looked out of place where Draco usually wore silver and green. Harry wondered what Lucius thought of Draco going off to America in Harry Potter’s scarf. He expected it was the closest Draco would ever get to saying _fuck you_ to his father.

“You’re staying tonight?” Harry’s heart lifted when Draco nodded.

“Yes.” Draco watched Harry with a cool stare, his expression unreadable. “But I won’t have tea and toast for breakfast if it’s all the same to you. I hate goodbyes.”

Harry nodded, because the message was clear. Draco would be gone before Harry woke up.

“Well then, let’s pretend it isn’t goodbye.” Harry led Draco into the kitchen and gestured to a bottle of brandy. “Drink?”

“Make it a double.” Draco took the offered glass and tipped it against Harry’s. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Harry wrinkled his nose. “Any idea what we’re toasting to?”

“A miracle.” Draco winced as he took a sip of the brandy. “Where the fuck did you get this from? It’s vile.”

“It was in the cupboard.” Harry shook his head at Draco’s huffing. “Not quite the same as the Malfoy cellars, I’ll bet.”

“This is Black family property. The booze should be better than the stuff we have in our cellars.” Draco sighed and leaned against the counter. “I wouldn’t have picked you as a brandy drinker.”

“I’m not, really. Sirius left it behind.”

Draco raised his eyebrow at Harry. “You couldn’t even buy a new bottle of brandy? I suppose you thought tonight wouldn’t be depressing enough. Good idea bringing out your dead godfather’s spirits, just in case we find ourselves having fun.”

“I didn’t expect us to spend the night drinking.” Harry glared at Draco. “You didn’t even tell me how long you planned to stay before you arrived on my doorstep. Idiot.”

Draco drained his brandy and put the glass in the sink. “If this is the only booze you’ve got in, I suggest we go to bed. I don’t want to be up late if I’m traveling tomorrow.”

“Better make sure we get the fucking out of the way early then.” Harry winced at his hard, bitter tone. “Sorry. I was trying to be funny.”

“Hilarious.” Draco rolled his eyes and looked pointedly towards the hallway. “I’m assuming your room’s through there?”

“Second on the left.” Harry nodded and let Draco lead the way. 

Draco pushed open the door to Harry’s room and stood still, contemplating his surroundings. He took in every photograph, ornament and piece of discarded clothing. Harry half wondered if Draco planned to bottle the memories, from the way he wandered around the room, studying every item with careful intensity. Harry leaned against the doorframe and watched Draco, not wanting to intrude on his thoughts. He had the sense this was important to Draco, and Harry planned to let him take whatever time he needed to rummage through Harry’s things.

Draco picked up a battered Snitch and held it in his hand. He turned it over with a half-smile, and turned to Harry. “An odd sort of trinket.”

“It’s a long story.” Harry laughed and shrugged. “It’s from Dumbledore. Although lately I find it reminds me of someone else, too.” People he’d lost, Harry thought. His father, Sirius, Remus, his mother and Dumbledore. Now when he looked at the Snitch, Harry remembered that first self-congratulatory holler in the darkness of Hogwarts grounds.

“I still have the one we used.” Draco’s gave Harry a proper smile this time, his eyes shining. “I kept it as a reminder of my victory. In case you get too cocky.”

“Or perhaps for a rematch?” Harry grinned at Draco’s reasoning for keeping the Snitch from their late-night game of Quidditch. While he expected there was an element of truth to Draco’s explanation, he knew enough by now to be sure that wasn’t the only reason Draco had kept the memento. He swallowed at the thought of his scarf downstairs on the bannister, already feeling cold at the idea of the house being empty once again.

Draco didn’t respond to Harry’s suggestion of a rematch. Instead he stopped walking, hesitating at a photograph which Harry had recently framed.

“It’s us.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t have anything like that up?” Harry moved behind Draco and rested his chin on Draco’s shoulder. The Harry and Draco in the photograph waved back with a smile, before pulling each other into a firm kiss. “Ron took that. Reluctantly.”

“I remember.” Draco traced the photograph with his fingers and lingered on Harry’s face. Finally he put it down, and looked around the room one final time. “Is it always this bloody cold?”

“Pretty much.” Harry flicked his wand to set the fire blazing. He placed it down on the hearth and raised an eyebrow at Draco. “Better?”

“A little bit, I suppose.” Draco curled his hand around Harry’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “Have we ever had sex without a roaring fire to set the mood?”

“I don’t think we have.” Harry laughed and he kissed Draco quickly, before moving from his arms. “You’re ready for bed, then?”

“I’d say so.” Draco gave Harry a look and deposited his coat on one of the chairs. Harry took Draco’s cue and slowly stripped out of his clothes. Despite the circumstances, Harry sensed a definite shift in their relationship. The setting of his home made the whole thing seem more real and more adult than the stolen hours together in Hogwarts. It made Harry’s heart constrict to think that this would be the first proper night he would spend with Draco, without having to sneak back to his room in Gryffindor Tower.

“We should have done this before. Stayed here, I mean.” Harry looked around with a frown. “I’m not sure why we didn’t.”

“You offered,” Draco reminded Harry. “During the spring. I was the one who decided to spend the holidays at home.” He pulled a face, clearly regretting the decision. “One of many things I wish I’d done differently.”

Harry nodded. “There’s lots of things I wish we could have done. I wish we could come home to one another after work and you could rub my feet or something.” Harry grinned at Draco’s horrified expression. “Or not.”

“I certainly wouldn’t play housewife to your Auror aspirations.” Draco snorted and arched an eyebrow at Harry. “I also have no intention of rubbing your feet. Not now, not ever.”

“Good to know.” Harry stripped out of his trousers and pants and stood before Draco, naked. “How do you want me?”

“Just as you are.” Draco’s voice caught in his throat. His eyes traced slow lines over Harry’s body. Just as he had taken in every detail of Harry’s room, he drank in every line and curve of Harry’s body. He stared openly and greedily, his cheeks flushed with desire.

“Are you going to join me?” Feeling distinctly uncomfortable being stared at so openly, Harry shifted onto the bed and watched Draco. “Naked, preferably.”

“Naturally.” With a smirk, Draco’s expression shifted. He slipped out of his clothes and folded everything neatly, right down to the socks. He bent to place the clothes on the chair, and Harry took his own opportunity to ogle Draco. He bit his bottom lip and stroked his cock slowly as Draco turned. “You’re getting started without me?”

“Something like that.” Harry laughed. His laugh turned to a low groan of pleasure when the bed dipped and Draco batted Harry’s hand from his cock, replacing it with his own. 

“I want to try something tonight.” Draco slowed his movements, teasing Harry. “Will you let me tie you up?”

Harry shivered at the thought. The suggestion went straight to his cock which hardened fully in Draco’s hand. He nodded, licking his lips. “With what?”

“I don’t know. A tie or something?” Draco removed his hand from Harry’s cock and reached for his wand. “ _Accio_ , Harry’s tie.” 

A slim black tie flew into Draco’s hand and Harry swallowed. The tie was the one he had used for the many funerals he had attended after the war. The memories came flooding back and he closed his eyes against the assault. “Might as well use that one. I’d prefer to remember something other than the war whenever I open my wardrobe.”

Draco hesitated. “Memories of me?”

“They’re as happy as any,” Harry replied.

With a soft groan, Draco pushed Harry back onto the bed and kissed him fiercely. “Hands over your head, Potter.”

“You could have just used _Incarcerous_ ,” Harry pointed out as Draco fastened the tie into a tight knot which bound Harry’s wrists securely to the bedframe.

“I don’t want to use that spell. Not on you.” Draco didn’t elaborate. When he finished, he sat back to admire his handiwork. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, I think.” Harry tugged his hands lightly, pleased to find the restraints held. He arched under Draco’s touch when he slid his slim fingers over Harry’s chest. Every sensation was heightened by his inability to reach for Draco and touch him back. His predicament took Harry back to the first night in Snape’s rooms.

“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, Harry.” Draco brushed his lips to Harry’s wrists where he’d fastened the bindings. “You’re going to be begging me to fuck you by the time I’ve finished.”

“I might be begging sooner than you think,” Harry murmured. He closed his eyes to focus on the sensations Draco’s touch elicited. Every flick of Draco’s tongue on Harry’s body sent sparks of pleasure through him. Tonight, Draco’s kisses were not hard and biting. Instead, he took his time, exploring every nook and crevice of Harry’s body. When Draco parted Harry’s legs and settled between them, Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

“Just relax,” Draco murmured.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you squirm, hopefully. It’s so delightful when you do that.” Draco’s teasing tone made Harry harder than ever. When Draco’s tongue caressed over his most intimate of places, Harry thought he might actually pass out. The firm, eager movements of Draco’s tongue sent pleasure coursing through Harry’s body. Harry closed his eyes again to lose himself in the sensation of Draco’s slim fingers pressed into the soft flesh of his backside, spreading him open. He luxuriated in every stroke of Draco’s tongue and rocked back towards him. 

When Draco worked his fingers into Harry, he was more than ready for it.

“I don’t need it. Fuck me, please.” Harry’s pleas fell from his lips, and Draco groaned. He moved over Harry’s body and pushed his legs back against his chest.

“You’re always so eager.” With a quick thrust, Draco buried himself deep inside Harry. The swift motion and the stretch made Harry cry out. 

“I thought you were going me beg.” Harry tugged at his bindings and arched up towards Draco, clenching around him. “You gave in pretty quickly, Malfoy.”

Draco laughed and bit down on Harry’s neck. “Shut up and let me fuck you properly.”

With a smile, Harry let Draco do just that.

“I don’t want to talk about America.” Draco kissed Harry’s jaw and trailed his fingers over Harry’s chest towards his groin. “Let’s not talk about anything that matters. I just want to take you as many times as we can both manage, and wake up with my muscles aching.”

“No complaints from me.” Harry stretched and flexed his hands, relieved Draco had untied him after several suggestions he might just leave Harry like that for a while. “Is there anything else you want to try?”

Draco shook his head. “Not tonight.” He swallowed as if it had just occurred to him that _not tonight_ meant _not ever_. “You?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Harry shrugged and the heat rose in his cheeks. Despite the fact he enjoyed being bound more than he thought he would, he definitely wasn’t ready to start exploring the other possibilities which intrigued him.

Draco hummed in response and kissed his way down Harry’s body. He ran his fingers along Harry’s crease and breached Harry’s body slowly, staring into his eyes.

“Fucking hell.” Harry let out a hiss of pleasure as Draco toyed with his sensitive body. “Filthy bastard.”

“I don’t think it’s just me, Potter.” Draco snorted and continued to watch Harry as he pushed his fingers fully inside him. “You love being filled. You _love_ me using my fingers. I thought it was just enjoying preparation, but it’s more than that for you. You get off on it even more than you get off on being fucked.”

“I’m not sure I have a preference.” Harry’s cheeks heated further, because he knew that was a lie. Draco’s hands on his body heightened his pleasure like nothing else, and the sensation of Draco’s slim fingers touching him so intimately left him desperate for more.

“Liar,” Draco teased. He slipped his fingers from Harry and kissed his way up Harry’s body. He captured his lips in a lazy kiss, and murmured against them as he pulled back. “I don’t want to leave.”

“No.” Harry swallowed and looked over at the window, where the darkness had begun to take on the light hue of morning. “And I don’t want you to go.”

Harry woke the next morning to the cool light of the morning sun streaming through his window.

“Draco?”

Harry held his breath and waited for a reply, to no avail.

The scent of Draco’s cologne still lingered in the room, but when Harry turned over, Draco’s side of the bed was cold.

**Six months later**

“You’re going out again, Harry?” Ron looked up from his paperwork with a frown. “Why don’t you come for dinner?”

“Because I’ve made plans.” Harry grabbed his coat and tugged it on. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“Why not?” Ron put down his quill and pushed away his paperwork. “Have you heard anything from Malfoy?”

The mention of Draco’s name sent a wave of pain through Harry’s heart and his stomach churned. He shook his head and forced a bright smile. “Nope. Still, there’s plenty more fish in the sea.”

“I’m not sure you’re going to find what you’re looking for in Muggle bars.” Ron sighed and pulled a face. “I get it, mate. Really. But there’s not going to be anyone there who knows anything about you – or our world. It’s hardly going to be the place for you to find someone else.”

“Perhaps I don’t want anyone else.” Harry’s voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. His insistence was too bright, too forced. “I’m busy enough with work, the last thing I need is to have my heart broken again.”

Ron winced and spoke more softly. “Not everyone’s going to bugger off and leave, you know.”

But they do, Harry wanted to insist. They always leave in the end.

“Too much hassle. I didn’t exactly get off on the right foot when I started…”

Ron laughed. “I don’t think Kingsley gave a toss about you hexing Lucius Malfoy.” He winked. “ _Accidentally_.”

“A slip of the wand.” Harry grinned back at Ron. “Still, it’s not what I’m looking for. I’m just happy as I am.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Ron muttered. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Fancy a drink?”

Harry turned to the burly man standing next to him. He shook his head and gestured to his pint. “Thanks, I’m fine.”

“Company, then?” The man dropped his hand onto Harry’s leg and squeezed. His breath smelled of stale liquor and cigarettes. 

“Not that, either.” Harry resisted the urge to cast a stinging hex. Instead, he shifted away from the unwelcome intrusion. He spoke firmly, softening his words with a smile. “Sorry, mate. You’re not really my type.”

“That’s what they all say.” The man looked morose, and turned to face the dancefloor. “I’ve seen you in here a few times. Thought I might try my luck. No hard feelings.” He took a generous sip of his pint and watched the bodies moving together over the dancefloor. “What exactly is your type, then?”

Harry narrowed his eyes, perusing the people dancing to another Muggle hit which seemed to make everybody shout and yell with excitement. Finally, his gaze landed on a blond dancing with abandon towards the left of the dance floor. His clothes were clearly well-cut and expensive. His face held a look of haughty superiority, as he dismissed man after man who approached him while he danced. As Harry stared, their eyes met across the dance floor. He gave Harry the once over, and grinned, beckoning him closer.

Harry drained his pint and placed the glass on the bar. He clapped the man next to him on the shoulder and nodded to the dance floor.

“He is.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

_“You don't know where and you don't know when but you still got your words and you got your friends. Walk along to another day, work a little harder, work another way. Well uh-uh baby I ain't got no plan…”_

\- Modest Mouse, The World at Large 

**Two Years Later**

“I can show you some magic.” Ron looked up from his parchment and glared at Harry. “I can show you some _magic_?”

“It’s a turn of phrase.” Harry’s cheeks heated and he avoided Ron’s eyes. “I wasn’t actually going to show him magic. I meant…well, you know what I meant.”

“I know exactly what you meant.” Ron pulled a face. “Still, the Ministry officials that arrived on the scene after you took your new bloke to _Grimmauld Place_ obviously haven’t heard anyone use a chat up line that rubbish for a long time. They just thought you were going to get your wand out – literally.”

Harry laughed at Ron’s summary despite the fact he still looked grumpy. “They didn’t have to Obliviate him. I was making progress.”

“They did have to Obliviate him. You can’t just take random Muggles to Grimmauld Place. You know that as well as I do.” Ron sounded very much as if he had been talking to Hermione. “How you get so many blokes to go home with you with those kind of chat up lines, I’ll never know.” 

“Charm?” Harry cleared his throat when Ron continued to look cross. “Of the non-magical kind.”

“What happened?” Ron frowned at Harry. “Were you trying to make Kingsley go mental?”

Chagrined, Harry shook his head. “You know I wasn’t. I was a bit more pissed than usual and I’ve got a homing instinct when it comes to Grimmauld Place. I’ve been going out for a long time, and that’s the first time it’s ever happened. It was a mistake.”

Ignoring Harry, Ron ran his finger down the parchment and rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, here’s my favourite bit: the Muggle was five foot eight, blond and from a family with Royal connections.” Ron huffed and pushed the parchment away. “You found yourself another Muggle Malfoy.”

“It’s not a regular occurrence anymore.” Harry winced. “It’s been ages since I’ve been clubbing, you know that. Besides, it’s been two years since Malfoy left. I’m in a better place than I was, that’s for sure.”

“I know you’re getting there, but this is just…stupid.” Ron glared at the parchment as if it aggravated him. “The fact that the odd Malfoy-a-like still finds his way into your bed from time to time can’t be healthy.” When Kingsley read the description, he nearly had kittens.”

“I hope you told him the truth.” 

“The truth?” Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry. “Yeah, I told him you’re out most nights shagging all sorts of Muggles, and the fact this one looked a lot like Malfoy was just a coincidence. I don’t think it helped.”

“No, I can imagine,” Harry said, gloomily.

Ron stood and clapped Harry on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Kingsley said you have to take some of that accrued leave of yours. You do know you haven’t had a holiday since you became an Auror?”

“I must have had some time off.” Harry thought back.

Ron shook his head. “Not so much as a sick day. You’re taking a month, Minister’s orders.”

“But we’re right in the middle of a case-”

“After the case.” Ron sighed. “It’s not my decision mate, you know that. I don’t exactly want to be partnered with Dawlish or someone. But I think it’s for the best.”

Disgruntled, Harry nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

“There’s something weird about this.” Harry frowned at the case notes and flipped through a large potions text. “Don’t you think?”

“It’s just someone else trying to make a profit from the illegal potions trade.” Ron looked up at Harry. “Nothing weird about that. We arrested Snide and Botts for the same thing just over a month ago.”

“But this one’s different.” Harry waved the notes at Ron. “It’s like all of the ingredients lead to the same place, but there’s no evidence of onward sales. Are you sure there’s trading involved?”

“All I know is they had to Obliviate a Muggle who swears blind they saw green smoke coming out of a chimney. Plus, most of the ingredients are rare or restricted. You don’t get any old amateur brewing that sort of stuff, and most people don’t need that kind of store cupboard for personal use.”

“It just doesn’t feel right.” Harry looked at the notes again. “None of the potions you could make with these ingredients have flooded the market lately. At least with Snide and Botts there was a surge in Death Cap Draught and people turning up to St Mungo’s with related complaints. There’s nothing like that with this, just a load of potion ingredients being shipped off to the middle of nowhere and a bit of green smoke. Something’s up.”

“Something’s always up.” Ron checked the clock and gathered his things together. “I’m off for the night. Hermione needs me, and who knows how long we’ll be in Cornwall for. Do you fancy coming over for a beer later?”

“Thanks, but I’ve had my share of early finishes.” Harry shook his head and turned back to the weighty potions text. “I’m going to do a bit more here, then go home for an early night.”

“Right, then.” With a nod, Ron gave Harry a quick salute. “See you bright and early tomorrow. Why the bloody hell Kingsley insists on dawn raids, I’ll never know. Midday raids would be much more civilised.”

Harry waved Ron off with a grin and returned to the book.

He made a couple of careful notes on the parchment. For the first time in ages, he felt excited about work. After the flurry of activity in the first year, the second year had slowed to a crawl of paperwork and Ministry politics, leaving Harry increasingly restless. The nights at Grimmauld Place seemed longer now and his nights in London clubs always ended the same way. The city had lost some of its former appeal, and more than ever Harry found himself wishing for some kind of peace and quiet instead of the anxious, restless feeling that dogged him relentlessly. 

He sighed, and put down his quill. A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts and he turned to see Kingsley in the doorway.

“No plans with Muggle royalty this evening?” Kingsley raised his eyebrow at Harry, although his tone was light and teasing.

“Not tonight. Early start tomorrow.” Harry smiled at Kingsley, feeling rather like he had on occasion when reprimanded by Dumbledore and McGonagall. “I’m sorry about the balls up with the Muggle. I know I need to grow up a bit.”

“Worse things happen at sea.” Kingsley took Ron’s recently vacated seat and watched Harry closely. “I’m not going to start disciplinary action over something like that, and I want you to know that what I’m going to say to you has absolutely nothing to do with recent events.”

Harry swallowed, a sense of dread creeping over him. “What are you going to say to me? Am I going to get fired?”

Kingsley snorted. “Hardly. You’re one of the top Aurors. Your record – which was impeccable until the other night – speaks for itself.”

“Then what?”

“I’m sure Weasley’s told you about my recommendation. You haven’t taken any holiday and I have to insist you utilise some of your accrued leave. Take a month, at least. More if you need it. Go and enjoy your Muggle royals, see the world, do whatever takes your fancy.” Kingsley paused and spoke carefully. “But I advise you to give some thought to your career while you’re on vacation.”

Harry picked at his quill miserably. “Why would I need to give it any thought? I’ve always wanted to be an Auror and you said yourself I’m doing a good job.”

“You are, and we would hate to lose you. But something tells me this isn’t exactly the job you imagined it might be when first recruited.” Kingsley paused. “I had an owl from Minerva yesterday.”

Of all the things Harry expected to hear, it wasn’t that. He frowned at Kingsley, his pulse quickening. “McGonagall? What’s that got to do with me?”

Kingsley shrugged. “Maybe nothing. She wanted me to tell any members of my team that might be interested about a new vacancy which has cropped up. Defence Against the Dark Arts, to be precise.”

“Wouldn’t I need to do a lot more study to become a Professor?” Kingsley’s suggestion piqued Harry’s interest, and the thought of being considered for such a position filled him with pride.

“Considering you managed to single-handedly duel and defeat the most famous Dark wizard of all time, I expect the children and staff would take your credentials seriously.” Kingsley chuckled. “I believe Minerva is particularly keen for someone with practical experience, and would be quite willing to mentor any young Professor in the art of teaching while they get used to the position. I also understand you already have a little experience, teaching your peers how to cast a Patronus amongst other things.”

“That’s hardly the same.” Harry’s cheeks heated. “Are you recommending me for the post?”

“I believe you are already the preferred choice.” Kingsley smiled gently at Harry. “Should you wish to avail yourself of the opportunity, you have my full support and any recommendation that may be required.”

The instinctive rush of happiness at Kingsley’s suggestion dissipated and Harry looked around the small office he shared with Ron. His formal Ministry uniform hung neatly on a nearby cupboard, washed and ready to be worn on one stakeout or another. His broom and boots rested in the corner of the room, and the shelves were full of books on subjects Harry still wanted to explore. Maps of the world, and locations Harry had never seen hung on the walls, with locations pinpointed for future exploration. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready to leave all this behind.” Harry met Kingsley’s steady gaze once more. “I can’t say the offer doesn’t appeal, because it does – more than you know. But this is what I’ve worked for, and I don’t know if I’d be happy not getting stuck in if there was another war. Do I have a choice, or are you telling me I’m not going to be welcome back at the Ministry after my break?”

“If you choose to stay here, then that decision will also have my full support.” Kingsley stood and placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I, for one, would be extremely sorry to lose you, and you can rest assured that if you decide to take up Minerva’s offer and we _do_ find ourselves in the midst of another war, I will not hesitate to call on you.”

Harry thought about the Order members and the way the Hogwarts Professors had been so instrumental to the victory against Voldemort. He knew in reality that he would fight side by side with Ron and Hermione if such a situation ever arose again, irrespective of their job titles. 

“Can I think about it?”

“Certainly.” Kingsley nodded. “You have a month, and I will await your answer on your return.” He picked up the notes Harry had been perusing earlier with a neutral expression. “A strange case, this one.”

“That’s just what I said!” Harry tapped his wand against the parchment. “There’s no evidence at all of onward sales. I don’t think this has anything to do with illegal trading. I just have no idea why somebody would need all of that stuff if they didn’t plan to do something dodgy with it.”

“I wonder…” Kingsley looked at the parchment for a moment longer before dropping it back on Harry’s desk. “We shall find out soon enough, I dare say. And as soon as we have apprehended the suspect, I expect you to take the leave we discussed.”

“Of course.” 

Harry sat back down and continued to read through his files long after Kingsley left.

“I’m knackered.” Ron yawned and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “And Cornwall is bloody freezing.”

“Where the fuck are we anyway?” Harry withdrew his wand and looked around as the wind whipped through his hair and pulled his cloak from his body. 

“Stuck on the edge of a cliff in the middle of nowhere, that’s where.” Ron withdrew his own wand and nodded at a house in the distance. “That’s the one. The one with the smoke.”

“They could have given us a more accurate Portkey,” Harry muttered. He walked into the wind, leaning into it as best he could. The spray from the nearby sea dotted his cheeks and left a salty flavour on his lips. 

“That would make it far too easy. Where’s the fun in just knocking on someone’s door?” Ron snorted and followed Harry’s path. “Now I know why we couldn’t fly.”

“Besides, it would have taken ages from London.” Harry took in the detail of the house which loomed closer. “It doesn’t look dodgy.”

“Neither did Quirrell,” Ron pointed out. “Or half the things we came across during the war.”

“Still, it’s just a home.”

“Who’d want to live here? It’s miles away from anything. It’s a good job they can do magic, whoever they are.”

“I still don’t know what we’re doing here,” Harry grumbled. “They don’t tend to put Aurors on clifftops in the middle of a thunderstorm unless they’re pretty sure there’s something worth investigating.”

“Shacklebolt wanted us to do this. He insisted. I even tried to get you out of it, with your leave coming up. He reckoned you’d want to be at this one, though. He’s quite happy to leave the stakeout in Albania to me and Dawlish, but he made it clear that you had to come along to Cornwall. Maybe he thinks you like tea.”

“I do like tea, but I can get that in London thanks.” Harry huffed and battled forwards. “Besides, there’s not much in the way of scones and clotted cream around here.”

“Just rocks and grass,” Ron agreed. He drew level with Harry and cursed when a gust of wind nearly sent him toppling over. “Buggering fuck, it’s too early in the morning for this.”

“We’re nearly there.” Finally the pathway to the house was within their reach. Harry pushed open a rickety gate which looked sufficiently rain battered. He caught a glimpse of the house name on a burnished brass placard weathered by the sea water and stormy weather. An unexpected chill made him shiver, and he stopped in his tracks. His heart hammered in his chest and his mouth went dry. “Ron…”

“Stop arsing around, just knock on the door.” Ron looked at Harry and frowned. “Are you alright, mate? You look a bit…green.”

“Look at that.” With a shaky hand, Harry pointed to the name on the door of the house.

Ron squinted. “Spinner’s End. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Bit of a coincidence to be called out to house in the middle of nowhere named after the street Professor Snape used to live on, don’t you reckon?” Harry advanced towards the door with trepidation. “It’s Snape. Snape’s alive.”

Before Harry could knock on the door, it opened to reveal a very irate looking Severus Snape. A very _alive_ Severus Snape.

“Professor.” Harry nudged Ron whose mouth had dropped open.

“Is this the best the Ministry could send?” Snape sneered down at Harry and folded his arms. “Harry Potter and his idiotic Weasley sidekick?”

“Hey!” Ron glared at Snape and began to recite his rights. “Severus Snape, I am arresting you on suspicion of-”

“Oh shut up, Weasley.” Snape snorted and flicked his wand. A long, black coat flew into his hand and he pulled it on. With another mutter, a bottle-green scarf hurtled towards them and dropped onto Snape’s shoulder. With a put upon sigh, he knotted it around his neck and shut the door firmly behind himself. “I expect you want to take me to the Ministry?”

“Yeah.” Ron exchanged a look with Harry. “If you like.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later.” Snape glared at Harry. “You’re very quiet, Potter.  
You’re usually full of inane observations. Has the cat got your tongue?”

A ball of fury made its way from Harry’s stomach into his chest and he could feel his cheeks turning a hot, angry red. “You’re supposed to be _dead_. We all thought you were dead.” Harry held his breath, half expecting Snape to take points from Gryffindor for his impertinence. 

“What a disappointment it must be to find me alive, in that case.” Snape’s lip curled as he eyed Harry. “I would say I’m surprised you didn’t find me sooner, but having seen no obvious signs of intellect or creative thinking from you previously I’m simply amazed you managed to find your way here at all.”

“We’re going to have to cuff you, I’m afraid. Make sure you don’t Apparate.” Ron held out his wrist and snapped one of the cuffs around it, while Snape looked on with disdain.

“Out of the question. I will not be taken into the Ministry like a criminal. Besides, if I wished to escape I would have done so already.” Snape jabbed a long, bony finger at the cuffs. “And all those will do is ensure I have a hostage when I Apparate.”

“They’re magical cuffs, actually. I’m the only one that can Apparate once they’re on.” Ron scowled at Snape. He looked at Harry and hissed out of the corner of his mouth “He can fly, remember? Why aren’t you helping?”

Snape looked irritated as he watched the exchange. “Not only could I have escaped, I would also have had sufficient time to take my illegal potions with me and possibly read this morning’s _Prophet_ headlines.” Snape glanced at Harry. “Speaking of unexpected news, how _is_ Mr Malfoy?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re not together anymore, as I’m sure you already know if you read Skeeter’s column.” Harry spoke through gritted teeth and turned on his heel. “Come on, then. We might as well go back to the Portkey.”

“What if he escapes?” Ron stopped Harry and jerked his head towards Snape. “Shacklebolt won’t be happy.”

Harry let out a low growl. “Kingsley knew exactly who we’d find here, and for some bloody reason he wanted _this_ to be my last hurrah.” Harry glared at Snape who was doing a very bad job of pretending he wasn’t listening. “Snape’s right, as much as I hate to admit it. He’s got his scarf and coat on, for fucks sake. He could easily have escaped by now if he wanted to. Besides, I’m still not sure what we’d be arresting him for. It’s pretty obvious all that stuff being shipped here was for personal use.”

“So we just…trust him?” Ron cast a suspicious glance at Snape.

“Yeah.” Harry’s head pounded and he tried to quell the involuntary shiver which ran through his body when he met Snape’s eyes. “Yeah, we do.”


	9. Chapter 9

_“Come in to my world, of loneliness and wickedness and bitterness, unlock my love. Unsuffer me, take away the pain, unbruise, unbloody, wash away the stain - anoint my head with your sweet kiss, my joy is dead, I long for bliss”_

\- Lucinda Williams, Unsuffer Me 

“Severus Snape.” Kingsley looked amused when Harry filled him in on the details of their bungled investigation. “I must admit, I did wonder.”

“You didn’t think to mention to us?” Harry glared at Kingsley, still disgruntled about his secrecy – not to mention his attempts to involve Harry in Snape’s arrest. “Thanks for that.”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Kingsley waved away Ron’s protests. “Besides, it was only a hunch. I’ve had my suspicions about Severus for a long time.”

Harry huffed and folded his arms. “Who’s going to interview him? We’re not even officially charging him with anything and he’s already threatened to hex me three times. He’s only been here for half an hour.”

To Harry’s displeasure, Kingsley laughed. “Oh, Severus. It’s good to have you back.”

“Yeah, it’s brilliant.” Ron rolled his eyes at Harry who had the distinct feeling Kingsley was enjoying this. 

“Why is he still _here_?” Harry knew he sounded petulant but he couldn’t help the fact that seeing Snape made him feel like an angry teenager again. “I’m amazed he’s even staying here to speak to us at all, considering he’s done nothing wrong. Unless it’s a crime to let everyone think you’re dead.”

“A crime punishable by a spell in Azkaban?” Ron offered, hopefully.

“You know as well as I do that no crime has been committed.” Kingsley raised his eyebrows at Harry and Ron. “Well there’s no need to look so disappointed about it.”

“Do you want me to tell him he’s free to go?” Harry asked, ignoring Kingsley’s smug demeanour.

“Not yet.” Kingsley stood and shuffled some papers. “Dawlish needs his help with the Macnair investigation. I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot more of Severus going forwards.”

“Pleased to hear it.” Ron didn’t sound pleased at all. “So he’s back for good, you think?”

“We’ll see.” A small smile played on Kingsley’s lips and Harry was strangely reminded of Dumbledore.

Harry shrugged and held out his hand to Kingsley. “I’ll be off, then. It sounds as though Dawlish has this covered.”

Kingsley ignored Harry’s proffered hand. “Not so fast. I think you should conduct the initial interview. It would be best to close your case properly, in accordance with Ministry procedures.”

“I can do that if you like.” Ron cast Harry a look which clearly said _you owe me_.

“I think we should let Harry do it.” Kingsley winked at Harry. “It is his last day, after all.”

“I really don’t mind…” Harry trailed off when Kingsley gave him a look. “Fine, I’ll speak to Snape. But if he hits me with an Unforgivable, I expect one of you to come to my rescue.”

With a muttered curse, Harry made his way to the interrogation rooms and pushed open the door to the small room currently housing Snape. 

“Snape.”

“Potter.” Snape narrowed his eyes warily. He pointed at the chair in front of him. “I suppose you may as well take a seat.”

Harry bristled and dropped his papers on the table, closing the door with a slam. Not for the first time he wondered how Snape could get under his skin after barely ten minutes together. “I’m not here for detention, Snape. I’m the Auror and you’re the…whatever you are.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is _suspect_.” Snape rolled his eyes.

Harry snorted. “You and I both know you’re not that. This is just a formality.”

“Nevertheless, I am here to be interrogated.” Snape eyed Harry rather like a bird of prey might size up a rodent. “You made it to the Ministry in the end, I see.”

“How observant of you,” Harry muttered. He frowned as he opened up his files, Snape’s presence unsettling him. “Let’s just get this over with, and remember I’m not one of your students anymore.”

“Thankfully,” Snape agreed. “I understand you are seeking information on Macnair.”

“Dawlish is, I’m not.” Harry pointed at his paperwork. “I was investigating the possibility of illegal potions trading in Cornwall. Dawlish will be in later to talk about Macnair.”

“He is the only one you haven’t been able to find?” Snape looked curious.

“Yes.” Harry glared at Snape. “Well, not the _only_ one. But as you let everyone think you were dead I’m not sure you count.”

“If someone had the inclination to investigate my death a little more thoroughly, I doubt I would have been difficult to find.” Snape waved his hand. “Besides, it can hardly have come as a shock to you. My portrait never appeared in Hogwarts, I assume.”

“I thought that was because you’re a miserable bastard, not because you were _alive_.” Harry banged his fist on the table with a low growl. “Do you know how many times I went into your rooms – how many times I went to McGonagall’s office looking for you?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “To what end? If I had actually died, Potter, what on earth made you think either my portrait or my ghost would welcome a visit from _you_?”

Harry stared at Snape. The familiar heat bubbled within his chest and he clenched his hands into fists. He tried to keep his voice measured because he wouldn’t be reduced to his teenage self again just because Snape was apparently still a total pillock. When he finally forced out words, his voice was tight and clipped.

“Stupidly, I thought we might have stuff to talk about.” Harry turned a page of the report with enough violence to send his papers fluttering onto the floor. “Perhaps I was wrong.”

Snape glared at Harry, his voice cold. “As usual, your grasp of the finer details is non-existent. If I had wished to be thought of as anything other than dead, don’t you think I would have alerted somebody to my survival sooner? No, I suppose it hasn’t occurred to you that when a man lets the world believe he is dead, it is probably because the very last thing he wishes to do is _talk_.”

“Perhaps I thought death might have made you less of an aggravating arse.” Harry’s cheeks heated with anger and he picked up his papers, trying to arrange them properly.

Snape let out a low _tut_. “I doubt any memory of mine would have been any more inclined to converse with you than I am at this moment in time.”

Harry resisted the urge to hex Snape and sat back in his chair. “Well now you’re back, like it or not, and I have questions for you.”

Snape drummed his fingers on the table, and Harry found his gaze drawn to them. They reminded Harry of a long, dark quill and the steady scratch of students taking notes. In a flash of heat and a pulse of emotion, Harry was transported back to the dark potions classroom. Snape’s robes moved around his table and Harry heard his name fall from Snape’s lips, laced with venom and hatred.

_Potter._

Harry swallowed and clutched the edge of the table to steady himself. The slim, bony lines of Snape’s fingers were stained with ink and marked by the years Snape had spent working on his potions. Each _tap_ on the table set Harry’s teeth on edge. He forced his gaze away, refusing to let Snape know how much he could still fluster Harry.

Snape watched Harry darkly and continued to _tap, tap_ his fingers on the table. “I have been here for over forty minutes and nobody has asked me if I would like a drink.”

Harry gritted his teeth and counted to ten. “Would you like a bloody drink?”

“Water will suffice.” Snape’s lips twitched. 

Harry shoved his chair back and poured Snape a glass of water, putting it down on the table with such force that it almost toppled over. “Your water.”

Snape pushed the drink to one side and pointedly ignored it. His expression barely flickered and he inclined his head towards Harry’s notes. “Proceed.”

Biting back another irritated response, Harry ran his finger down the piece of parchment. “You obtained the following ingredients,” Harry rattled off a list from his notes and folded his hands on the table once he’d finished. “Care to explain what you needed them for?”

“In some cases for personal use, in other instances I required the ingredients to continue my research.” Snape stopped his infuriating tapping and snatched the paper from Harry. He perused the list, his lips pursed. 

Harry took the paper back from Snape, giving him a pointed look. “Did you at any time create, take or trade in any illegal potions?”

“Would I be likely to tell you if I did?” Snape arched his eyebrow at glared down his nose at Harry. After a beat, he shook his head. “No. The potions I spent my time producing are not on any official list.” A self-satisfied look crossed Snape’s sallow features and his eyes glinted. “They were all of my own creation.”

“Ten points to Slytherin.” Harry rolled his eyes and tapped his quill against the parchment. “Can you explain why it was necessary to brew potions for personal use?”

“I wished to develop a line of bathing products.” Snape looked irritated and turned his eyes heavenward. “I trust you remember how you found me when you stole my memories and left me to bleed to death?”

Harry spluttered and closed his file with force. “You gave me those memories and I did _not_ leave you to bleed to death.”

“No?” Snape asked, coldly. “You came back for my body then I suppose?”

Harry’s fury overwhelmed him, and he stood so rapidly his chair fell back against the floor with a clatter. “I was actually a bit busy killing Voldemort and trying to stop more people from dying. You weren’t the only one that died that night! But you didn’t actually die, did you? Not like all the others. You just let people put up a fucking plaque in your memory and set yourself up in a cosy little cottage when you could have _helped_. We could have caught Macnair years ago if you’d been around.”

“I suppose you did your fair share after the war?” Snape stood with a low growl of his own and leaned forwards, his eyes gleaming. “Playing Quidditch and strutting around Hogwarts basking in the glory of your heroics must have been _exactly_ what Shacklebolt expected from his protégé. Not to mention you had ample time to enjoy an ill-advised liaison with Draco Malfoy. Or perhaps that too was part of your master plan – perhaps you intended to _fuck_ the remaining Death Eaters into submission. I imagine you enjoyed sullying yourself and getting a little taste of the darkness, Potter.” Snape’s voice dipped, dangerously. “It must have been quite illuminating.”

“The darkness?” If he hadn’t been so furious, Harry would have laughed at Snape’s ridiculous assumptions. “You think you know everything. You don’t know a thing about me!” Harry clenched his hands into tight fists and resisted the urge to punch Snape squarely in the face. He steadied his breathing and gathered his notes, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled with fury. “I’m leaving.”

“I expect you’ll be back tomorrow, looking for more answers.” Snape stood upright and stalked to the door, yanking it open. “You will be sorely disappointed if you expect me to entertain you.”

“I won’t be here, actually. I’m off for a month and you were my last case.” Harry made his way to the door and he caught a whiff of the spicy scent of potions which took him back to his schooldays. “So you don’t have to worry about seeing me again. The last thing I need now is answers from _you_.”

“What a pity.” Snape sneered at Harry. “I do so enjoy our chats.”

“Mate?” Ron came to the door, looking concerned. He gave Snape a furious look and rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder, exchanging a glance with Kingsley. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is _fine_ , Weasley,” Snape snapped. “Kindly send in Dawlish. I believe I may have something useful he should consider when looking for Macnair.”

Harry pulled a face at Ron and pushed his way out of the room so he could breathe again.

“Come round later, will you?”

“Yeah, I might.” With a quick, forced smile at Ron, Harry gave Kingsley a salute goodbye and made his way quickly through the vast Ministry corridors. 

He reached his office and closed the door with a slam, sitting at his desk and swallowing thickly. He sighed as his anger dissipated.

“So much for reminiscing about the good old days.”

After his run in with Snape, Harry went back to Grimmauld Place and was immediately greeted by a screech from Walburga Black. He ignored her and went for a shower. He stood under the running water until his fingers turned prune-like, and his cheeks were hot and well-scrubbed. The tension in his body eased a little, and the warm water soothed his aching muscles. Despite the calming shower, Harry’s mind continued to race with the events of the last few hours. Images of Snape’s face sneering down at him proved impossible to shake, and left his hands trembling as he held himself up by placing his hands flat against the slick tiles. When it became clear not even the longest shower in the world would stop his thoughts from running amok, Harry exited the shower and pulled on his dressing gown. He curled up on his bed and closed his eyes in an effort to push away any thoughts of Severus Snape.

Eventually, he fell into a fitful sleep. Nightmares disturbed his dreams, just as they often did after the war. The shouts and cries of his friends mingled with screams and the laughter of Bellatrix and Greyback. Images of Remus and Sirius standing in their ghostly forms while Harry made his way into the Forbidden Forest flooded his mind. When he woke to a loud clatter from downstairs, his body was slick with perspiration. He fumbled for his glasses and pushed them onto his nose. His body tensed when the sound of mumbled voices filtered upstairs. With a frown, Harry pulled on some pyjama bottoms and discarded his robe on the bed. He grabbed his wand and advanced slowly downstairs, holding his breath.

“Harry? Are you here, mate?”

Harry quickly pocketed his wand at the sound of Ron’s familiar voice and made his way into the living room.

“I was sleeping, sorry.” Harry raked his hand through his hair and wondered why Ron looked decidedly sheepish.

“You might want to put some clothes on, you’ve got-”

“Company?” Harry folded his arms when an irritated looking Snape stepped through the Floo. He carried a small, battered case and a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ was tucked under his arm. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

Snape gave Harry a disgruntled look. “Despite your attire it is only three o’clock in the afternoon. Is this how the great Harry Potter spends his vacation?” He gave Harry a strange look and his gaze lingered a little too long on Harry’s bare chest. “I hope we didn’t interrupt anything. You look a little…hot and bothered.”

Harry flicked his wand to Summon a jumper and pulled it over his head with a growl of annoyance. “You interrupted me sleeping, Snape. I had to get up early this morning to investigate you and your bloody potions if you remember. It’s been a long day.”

“I told you not to piss him off,” Ron hissed. He raised his eyebrows at Snape to emphasise his point and cleared his throat, turning back to Harry. “Kingsley’s orders, I’m afraid. Snape has tenants in his old place and it’s going to take at least a week for them to clear out. He can hardly stay in Cornwall if he needs to be at the Ministry this week…”

With a sense of rising dread, Harry shook his head firmly. “No chance. He can stay at one of the pubs. The Ministry’s got more than enough money to put him up for a few nights.”

“The pubs are full. You know that; it’s Quidditch season.” Ron gave Harry an apologetic look. “It’s just for a week or so. There’s plenty of room here, you’ll hardly notice each other.”

“I reckon I bloody well _will_ notice him.” Harry gestured furiously at Snape. “He’s already making comments about what I’m wearing in my own home. Did he tell you he practically accused me of plotting to shag my way through the Death Eaters to help the Ministry after the war?”

Ron let out a wheeze and turned to Snape, his cheeks red. “You really take the biscuit. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Snape gave Ron a smirk. “I was merely being flippant. It is hardly my fault that Potter has such delicate sensibilities.”

“Yeah, well stop it for fucks sake.” Ron rolled his eyes. “He’s doing you a favour, remember?”

“I’m not doing anything for him.” Harry jabbed his finger in Snape’s direction and glared at Ron. “If this is Shacklebolt’s idea of a holiday, he’s having a bloody laugh.” 

Snape interjected, his voice low and dangerous. “Whatever you wish to say can be addressed to _me_ , Potter.”

“Fine.” Harry turned to Snape and met his dark stare head on. “You can bugger off. How’s that for addressing you directly?”

“There’s no other choice.” Ron withered under Harry’s fierce expression. “I’d take him to The Burrow, but there’s no room.”

“I can assure you I have no desire to sit around sharing war stories if that is your concern,” Snape said tightly.

“Funnily enough, that’s pretty far down on the list.” Harry focused on Snape instead of Ron. “I’m more worried about the possibility of committing my first murder.”

Snape snorted. “I would very much like to see you try.” His eyes flickered with unspoken anger and his fingers curled around the handle of his case, his knuckles even whiter than usual. His face was pinched and his lip curled into a sneer as he looked back at Harry. Light pink spots bloomed on his cheeks and he turned to Ron with a snap. “I would prefer to sleep on the streets than take up precious space in one of Potter’s vast mansions. Come on, Weasley. I wish to leave.”

“No can do, Snape.” Ron sighed and looked at Harry pleadingly.

Harry pressed his lips together firmly. He took in the tatty case clutched in Snape’s hand and images of his dad and Sirius taunting a young, angry Snape flickered before his mind. Snape standing here in his living room with his small suitcase made Harry feel more sad than angry. 

“I said I wish to leave,” Snape insisted.

Harry groaned and shook his head at Ron, who responded with a shrug. “There’s plenty of room, I suppose.” 

“So gracious of you, Potter.” Snape hesitated nevertheless and eyed Harry with suspicion. “However, I would prefer not to stay where I am not welcome.”

Harry took a deep breath and resisted the urge to tell Snape to bugger off again. “Like I said, there’s plenty of room. It’s not like I have anything better to do. You might as well stay.”

“Brilliant. I’ll tell Kingsley we’re all sorted.” Ron let out a huff of relief. “I’ve got to get back.” He nodded at Snape. “He may be a prat, but Snape gave us some good advice on the Macnair situation.”

A flicker of interest caused Harry to raise his eyebrows at Ron. “Really? I could come back with you, if you like – finish off the day.”

“It’s going to take longer than that. We’re off to Dubrovnik this evening.” Ron gave Harry a lopsided shrug. “I’ll let you know how we get on, mate. Don’t worry about that.”

“Stupid arsing holiday.” Harry huffed but waved Ron away. “Fine. But tell Kingsley he owes me one for this.” He forced a smile before Ron could step into the fireplace. “And take it steady, yeah? Be careful.”

“You know I will.” Ron gave Harry a broad smile and nodded at Snape. “Professor.”

“Weasley.” Snape inclined his head at Ron, and with a flash of green smoke, he disappeared. 

Harry flicked his wand to block the fireplace to unwanted visitors and nodded to Snape’s case. “Is that all your stuff?”

“I don’t intend to stay for long.” Snape glared at Harry, seemingly affronted by the question.

“Thank Merlin for that,” Harry muttered. He ushered Snape through the halls and past the portrait that let out a screech at the sight of Snape. Ignoring it as always, Harry made his way upstairs and pushed open the door to one of the rooms. “This one should do. It’s the biggest and it has its own bathroom. There’s a fire, but it’s not connected to the Floo network so you won’t get any unexpected visitors. I expect you know the rest of the place. Not much has changed.”

“So I see.” Snape perused the room, his lips pressed tightly together. He deposited his case on the bed and turned his back to Harry as he began to unpack neatly folded piles of clothes which seemed to be almost entirely black, save for a couple of crisp white cotton shirts. “I believe I will get an early night.”

“Don’t you want food?” Harry took in the way Snape’s shoulders tensed at the question and wondered at it. Despite his earlier anger, he felt guilty about his reluctance to give up his space to Snape – there really was plenty of room, after all. “I’ve got bread, cheese and a bit of ham. There’s soup too and some left over stew from last night. You must be hungry.”

“Thank you, I am fine.” Snape’s stomach let out a low growl of protest, but he kept his back firmly to Harry.

“Right then.” Harry stuck out his tongue at Snape’s back and huffed. “Suit yourself. The food’s in the kitchen, you can have whatever you want. There’s Firewhisky too, if you fancy. Help yourself.”

“Have you got plans?” Snape continued to unpack with the same slow, precise movements. “I wouldn’t want to keep you, Potter.”

Harry ground his teeth together and took a moment before responding. At this rate he and Snape were going to kill each other, he was sure of it. Never had the idea of casting a particularly nasty hex appealed quite so much.

“Yeah, I’m going out. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Despite the fact he had been looking forward to a night eating chocolate biscuits and relaxing in Grimmauld Place, Harry didn’t much fancy sitting around glaring at Snape for the evening. Snape didn’t respond, other than to let out a quiet, almost angry huff.

With a sigh, Harry left him to it.


	10. Chapter 10

_“What if I said I was just too young? What if I said I was built on bricks of carelessness and crumbs?…You ought to know where I'm coming from, how I was alone when I burned my home…you should know where I'm coming from”_

\- BANKS, You Should Know Where I'm Coming From 

“I trust you had a good evening?” 

When Harry finally surfaced after his night out, Snape was already in the dining room. He had brewed a fresh pot of coffee and the pleasing scent of coffee and hot buttered toast lingered in the room. With a yawn, Harry nodded and poured himself a large mugful. At least Snape was being civilised for once.

“I suppose so.”

“You did not have any guests staying, however.” Snape turned a page of his paper and he sounded oddly pleased by that.

Harry scowled and took a bite of his toast. “I’ve got one guest already.” He added a heaped spoon of sugar to his coffee and stirred it idly. “I go to Muggle bars. I can’t bring people back here, I made that mistake once before. Kingsley was decent about it, but he’ll go barmy if it happens again.”

“I see.” Snape folded his paper and eyed Harry. “Is there any particular reason you have sworn off wizards?”

Harry blinked at Snape, a tight ball curling in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed a gulp of coffee and winced when it scalded his tongue. “I haven’t sworn off anything.”

“Yet you favour Muggles?” Snape traced his lips with his finger and gave Harry the same dark stare.

“No, I just…” Harry frowned and put down his toast, his appetite gone. He wasn’t sure why Snape seemed to have such an interest in his love life, but the conversation left him unsettled. “It’s easier this way.”

“Is it?” Snape arched an eyebrow and poured himself another cup of coffee. “I was not aware your bravery had been so damaged by…the war.”

Harry startled and he glared at Snape. “I’m not _damaged_. I’m just having fun.”

Snape snorted and he turned back to his paper. “Are you?”

Harry finished his coffee quickly and didn’t respond, his cheeks heating. “I’m going to shower.”

When he left the room, Harry cast one look back at Snape who continued to read his paper without once looking up at Harry.

Harry managed to avoid Snape for most of the day. He stayed in his room and read a book Hermione had sent by owl after discovering Harry would have more time on his hands. It was a large, dusty Defence Against the Dark Arts text and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how much Hermione and Ron knew about Harry’s options for the future.

Surprised by how much he enjoyed his reading, Harry became caught up in a particularly tricky chapter on duelling strategy. By the time he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the nearby cuckoo clock, it was nearly six in the evening and the last remnants of sunlight had plunged the room into near darkness. Harry switched on a nearby oil lamp with a quick flick of his wand, bathing the room in a comforting orange glow. He pulled a jumper over his t-shirt and made his way downstairs.

A delicious smell wafted towards him and his stomach let out a gurgle of appreciation. He leaned against the door and watched Snape, who stood at the stove. He seemed lost in his cooking. The kitchen had been cleaned and the appliances shone brightly. A large cast iron pot bubbled pleasingly on the stove and Snape flicked his wand with a murmur, to set a wooden spoon stirring the contents of the pot.

“I don’t suppose there’s enough for two?” Harry approached the stove and poked at the stew, earning himself a light swat on his hand.

“If you can resist the urge to interfere, there will be ample.” Snape shooed Harry away. “Sit. If you want to make yourself useful, you can pour me another glass of wine.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at Snape and couldn’t resist the urge to laugh. After all of their arguments, the light, happy sound between them took Harry by surprise. “Are we living together in domestic bliss?”

Snape snorted, and pink spots flared in his cheeks. “Hardly,” he snapped. He glared at Harry. “I simply do not wish to be in debt to you or to anybody else.”

Harry rolled his eyes and poured himself a glass of wine, topping up Snape’s glass. “You’re not a house-elf. I don’t expect you to cook for me. I’ve already said, there’s plenty of room for you to stay.”

“I am not cooking _for you_ , Potter. I am making supper for myself. You simply happen to be here, making inane observations.” Snape gave the stew a violent stir and scowled at the pot as if it offended him. 

Harry took a seat obediently, not really in the mood for arguing. The reading he had been doing earlier continued to whirl around in his mind. “You know a bit about duelling, I expect?”

Snape nodded and turned to face Harry, his expression unreadable. “Do you wish to work up an appetite?”

Harry laughed again, and Snape’s lips twitched. To Harry’s surprise, he realised Snape might actually have made a joke. The thought made him feel strangely warm. “I’ve been reading about duelling strategy.”

“I see. Should I be concerned?” Snape turned to taste the stew and Harry had the distinct impression he was being teased. 

“It’s interesting.” Harry briefly considered letting Snape in on his plans before dismissing the thought, reminding himself that he and Snape were not friends – far from it. “A lot to remember.”

Snape hummed thoughtfully. “There are situations where a strategy might be useful, but one’s ability to duel successfully is largely down to skill and instinct. Your time would be better served arming yourself with the kind of spells your opponent will not expect.” Snape looked back at Harry, his voice smooth. “An _Expelliarmus_ under the right circumstances can be as effective as an _Avada Kedavra_ , but one must never allow themselves to become _predictable_.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly and remembered his first duelling practice with Snape. The image of a younger Draco gave rise to a pang of emotion, and he opened his eyes to bring himself back to the present. “I’ve never made up a spell of my own.”

“No.” Snape didn’t seem surprised, and he dished up two healthy portions of food. He placed the steaming bowl in front of Harry and took his own seat. “I would be happy to duel with you. If you wish to practice.”

Harry narrowed his eyes and studied Snape. “Why? You hate me.”

Snape didn’t correct Harry. Instead his lips curved into a strange half smile and his eyes glinted. “You imagine that I would take little pleasure in duelling with you in that case? To the contrary. It is far less enjoyable duelling those I have no desire to harm.”

Something in Snape’s tone made Harry shiver. A peculiar heat flashed through his body and warmed his cheeks. He looked away quickly and took a forkful of his stew. “I might surprise you. I’ve learned a few tricks since school.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” 

Harry swallowed and looked up Snape, who had started eating. Something in his tone made Harry wonder if they were still talking about magic. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Snape arched an eyebrow at Harry and he wiped the corner of his mouth delicately with his napkin. “Simply that I would hope two years with the Ministry has given you a little more experience.”

Harry nodded, still suspicious. “Yeah, well. You might be surprised. I can’t imagine you’ve been doing much duelling on your cliff in Cornwall.”

Snape snorted softly. “No, I’m sure you can’t.”

Harry frowned at Snape’s cryptic response. He finished his stew and pushed the bowl away with a satisfied sigh. “Thanks for the stew.”

Snape simply nodded and ate the remainder of his meal in silence, while Harry watched him curiously.

“You’re taking this seriously.” Harry looked around the living room and raised his eyebrows at Snape. The furniture had been cleared, leaving a vast, dark space in which to duel. The black wood floor looked hard and unforgiving, and Harry wrinkled his nose. “You didn’t think a few cushions might be in order?”

Snape snorted and slipped his wand through his fingers. He had taken off his usual robes and wore a waistcoat over a white shirt which he had unbuttoned at the sleeves. The rolled up sleeves exposed the faded Dark Mark on his forearm, and a thin scar on the other which slashed from his elbow to his wrist. Harry wondered what had caused the scarring and how many other signs of war Snape wore on his body. 

“I was under the impression you wanted to practice duelling, not tumble about on some cushions like a child.”

Harry glared at Snape. “What makes you assume I’ll be the one doing the tumbling? You seem to forget I was appointed Head Auror last year.”

“Would you like a trophy of some sort?” Snape looked thoroughly unimpressed and flicked his wand as if to test it. A few sparks shot into the air and rained onto the floor, disappearing before they touched the wood. “You will need a wand, I assume?”

“Yes.” Harry frowned at Snape, a creeping sense of trepidation making him irritatingly nervous. “You don’t?”

“I am…flexible.” Snape gave Harry an unpleasant smile. The lamplight flickered and shadows danced over Snape’s sallow face. The shadow made his cheeks appear almost hollow, and his face held a strange expression. Harry couldn’t help but feel Snape was enjoying this a little too much.

“I’ll need my wand, if it’s all the same to you.” Harry looked at his T-shirt and scruffy jeans and wished he’d put on something a little more imposing. “Perhaps I should change?”

“I don’t think your opponents will be too concerned by your attire when they are trying to kill you, Potter.” Snape rolled his eyes.

Harry huffed. “Fine, then. But no killing. No Unforgivables. I don’t want to have to explain to Shacklebolt that I accidentally murdered you. I’m already in enough trouble for showing a Muggle Grimmauld Place.” Harry winked at Snape and gave him a broad grin. “Besides, killing you would only mess the place up.”

Snape let out a _harrumph_ and took his position at the end of the room. “You’re awfully cocky all of a sudden.”

“I’m pretty confident.” Harry took his own position and extended his wand hand. He wasn’t, but Snape didn’t need to know that. He bowed quickly and took a breath. “On the count of three.”

“Very well.” Snape barely acknowledged the formality of bowing. He gave Harry a curt nod and began the countdown. On three, Snape flung a powerful spell in Harry’s direction. 

“That’s cheating,” Harry muttered. He righted himself quickly and tried to disarm Snape, who blocked him easily with a flick of his hand.

“And that’s not even trying. _Predictable_ , Potter.” Snape flung another vicious spell at Harry. The curse left his mouth with a hiss and his face twisted. “You need to _feel_ it. You’re weak and flaccid.”

A wave of hatred and furious anger made Harry grip his wand more tightly. He dodged another spell, and focused on the way Snape made him feel – the way Snape had _always_ made him feel. He thought his anger might be felt by Snape as he snapped out a couple of spells – the kind he usually reserved for battles with Dark wizards and particularly tricky criminals.

“I’m not weak. I’m stronger than you think, I’m stronger than _you_.” Harry sent another angry spell towards Snape, fuelled by his rage which burned within his chest. 

“You are still nothing more than a child. A _boy_. A foolish, arrogant boy who thinks he knows the ways of the world.” Snape’s words fell from his lips with a rough, angry snarl. Spittle flew in Harry’s direction as Snape snapped and shouted. He slashed his wand violently through the air and a nearby ornament shattered into smithereens. “You disappoint me, Potter. I had expected more creativity from one held in such high regard by the Ministry – it seems again you have succeeded on account of your name and privilege.”

“You want _creativity_?” Harry let out a low growl, and slashed his wand back and forth. He nimbly deflected another onslaught from Snape and let the power of a Dark spell run through his veins. He threw it at Snape with all of his might and watched Snape’s eyes widen. “ _Sectumsempra!_ ”

Snape flicked his hand, throwing up a barrier to the spell. His eyes flickered with anger and he curled his lip. “You’re still as reliant on the vast knowledge of others, I see – yet you have no real strength of your own. No real gift, other than impulsiveness and a reckless disregard for others. You attempt to use Dark magic – my own spells no less – against _me_?” 

Snape lowered his voice and spoke with malice as he shot a bolt of black at Harry. The lamplight in the room flickered and dimmed. Shadows moved over the wall and wound closer to Harry. The Dark magic made him shiver, and he tried to collect himself. Snape was right. This wasn’t about strategy – this was about thinking with Snape’s particular brand of cunning – this wasn’t about beating Snape at his game, this was about making the game Harry’s own. It was about fighting with his instinct, with his _heart_. If there was one thing Harry trusted it was his instinct.

Harry responded to Snape’s spell with a flare of yellow. The room was bathed in bright light for a moment, and the shadows retreated. He hit Snape with another spell, not a curse or a horrible hex learned from the dusty pages of an old schoolbook. He drew on the things that had helped him win the war – on the freedom of looping lazily through the sky on his broom, on laughing with Ron and Hermione, on _love_.

A surge of power pulsed through Harry’s veins and he cast a handful of spells which brightened the room and left Snape stumbling backwards. 

“Better.” Snape cast another powerful curse with a snarl. Snape’s unexpected praise wrong-footed Harry, and the force of the spell knocked him backwards as he deflected it with a quick swipe of his wand. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Harry muttered. He advanced towards Snape and cast three spells in quick succession. Snape deflected them easily, and his eyes narrowed as he sent another hex towards Harry with a sneer. “How is any of this helping me?”

Snape threw another spell in Harry’s direction, and didn’t reply. Harry flicked his wand without a murmur, a powerful stream of light almost catching Snape off guard. His eyes widened and then he let out a low laugh, deep and rich.

“My, my. Wordless magic. How _unexpected_.” Snape’s lip curled and he advanced towards Harry, flicking his wand this way and that. The assault of powerful non-verbal spells pushed Harry backwards as it took all of his strength to defend himself. A wave of loss mixed with his desperate anger at Snape’s deception and his body hummed with energy. Another flash of light from his wand cast aside the shadows Snape pulled forth with every slice of his wand, and he found the power of the bright magic he channelled more intoxicating than even the Darkest of spells.

“You should have stayed!” Harry hit Snape with another fierce spell. Years of wasted grief burned within him, fuelling his desire to fight. He flicked his wand again and Snape stumbled under the force of Harry’s spell, righting himself quickly as he extended his arm. “That’s why I’m stronger than you – I stayed and cleared up the bloody mess you left behind.” Harry’s words caught in his throat and when he cast another spell, his voice was raw and rough. “You don’t think anybody missed you? Well I missed you, you miserable git. _I_ grieved for you.”

“Poor Potter.” Snape sneered and threw a wordless hex at Harry which forced him backwards, nearly knocking him off his feet. “It must have been so difficult for you, with all of your wealth and popularity. I am sure you used your false grief to attract sympathy from those around you in order to bolster your inflated ego.” Snape drew a breath and sent another curse towards Harry with a hiss of anger. “You have always been so ruled by your emotions, with no sense of reality. Do you know, Potter, what it is like to be truly _alone_? Did you imagine that we might be friends? Perhaps you thought I would welcome your childish advances and misguided sense of duty, and be flattered by your attentions.”

“You have no idea who I am at all.” Harry cast another furious spell, every muscle in his body wound so tightly he thought he might explode with hurt and anger. His eyes pricked with tears and he swallowed them back, sending another angry flash of light in Snape’s direction. “Yes, I fucking know what it’s like to be lonely. I know what it’s like to lose people – to grow up with a family that hides you away in a cupboard under the stairs. I know what it’s like when people don’t understand you, when you can’t even tell your closest friends the things you want most of all.” 

“Have I touched a nerve?” Snape sounded delighted and cast another hard spell in Harry’s direction. He advanced closer, with his wand moving this way and that. “I am fairly certain I know _exactly_ the kind of things you crave.”

“You don’t know a bloody thing.” Snape’s response unsettled Harry, and he cast another spell. The magic coursing through his veins made his whole body feel alive. “You’re so interested in my house guests and making little digs about Malfoy.” Harry’s breathing came in hard, ragged pants. Perspiration dotted his forehead and he cast another violent spell with a low growl. “Do you wish I was sucking your cock instead, is that it, Snape?”

Where the _fuck_ had that come from? Harry’s hand clenched around his wand, and Snape’s eyes widened. Instead of casting another hex, Snape flung down his wand and advanced on Harry. His pale face whitened further, aside from the red spots of anger which bloomed in his cheeks. His face twisted into a look of pure, unadulterated fury and he gripped Harry by the scruff of his T-shirt. He shoved Harry back against the wall, his warm breath and spittle hitting Harry’s face in a rush.

“You arrogant little idiot.”

Harry raised his hands to push Snape away. Just as he found purchase, Snape slammed his body against the wall once more. Instead of feeling Snape’s hands wrap around his throat as Harry expected, bony fingers pinned Harry in place and Snape’s mouth found his, warm and insistent.

Every fibre of Harry’s being told him to push Snape away with all of his might. Every shred of common sense told him this was – quite possibly – the most fucked up thing that had ever happened to him. Despite his brain telling him to shove Snape hard, Harry’s sensitised body responded to the hum of magic which surrounded him. His skin sparked with unexpected electricity when Snape touched him. The firm press of Snape’s lips against his drew a ragged moan from Harry. The sheer force of Snape’s bizarre declaration of affection made all common sense fly out of the window. 

He dropped his wand to the floor with a clatter and responded to Snape’s kiss. He opened his mouth to the fierce touch and the room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and cloth moving against cloth. Harry pulled Snape closer, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. He didn’t want Snape to stop – far from it. The hard heat of Snape’s body pressed against him sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine, and his body responded with eager readiness. He hadn’t kissed another wizard since…well, for a very long time. Harry wondered if it was Snape’s power or just the fact it was the first time in a long time that magic and sex had felt so inextricably entwined that made him so sensitive to the magic humming through Snape’s veins. It was the first time in ages that someone had actually kissed _Harry_ knowing every intimate detail of his life, his history, and his complications.

With renewed energy, Harry deepened the kiss and slid his hands over Snape’s back. He was slim, but wiry and Harry’s palms traced the taut, sinewy muscles with a low growl of appreciation. Snape was rough and demanding, and his warm mouth covered Harry’s with a skill which made Harry wonder how many times Snape had done this before. He supposed Snape could hardly have made it into his thirties without having had a few decent snogs, but he’d never considered Snape like _that_. 

Snape raised his hand to Harry’s face and cupped his chin, drawing him deeper into the kiss. His thumb brushed Harry’s cheek and the gesture was oddly intimate given the fact they had been duelling and yelling at one another only moments before. Snape was far from tender, but his arm wrapped around Harry in a way which made him feel safe and protected. Warmth spread through his body from the tips of his fingers to his toes and he rocked against Snape’s thigh, seeking friction against his aching cock.

“Eager boy,” Snape murmured. The sound of his voice did nothing to dispel Harry’s arousal. Snape made the two words sound positively _filthy_ and Harry rocked against him more insistently. “Patience.” Snape slipped his hands down to Harry’s backside and pulled him close, breaking the heated kiss and scraping his teeth along the line of Harry’s jaw and down his neck. 

Harry wanted to say something, but he didn’t feel he could gasp out the name _Severus_ and he couldn’t very well call Snape ‘Professor’. He flattened his palms against Snape’s chest and leaned back to draw a shuddering breath. 

Snape pressed his lips together in a tight line. He gave Harry a look, his dark eyes boring into the depths of Harry’s soul. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if Snape could read his mind. His body felt hot with arousal and his confusion overwhelmed him. This was Snape. Severus _Snape_ – a man who had told Harry on more than one occasion how much he hated him. Snape, who insisted Harry was an idiot, a foolish child, a liability to himself and others. Snape, who had fought Harry with everything but his dying breath.

Snape looked as if he was going to say something, and Harry wanted to shut him up. He wanted to stop Snape from looking at him with that unreadable stare, which made Harry feel five inches tall. The sound of Snape’s taunts filled Harry’s mind and he swallowed hard, his throat working furiously. He couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want to see the look of delighted satisfaction on Snape’s face while he commented on the way the great Harry Potter had rutted against him. Most of all, Harry didn’t want Snape to see the impact he had on Harry. He didn’t want him to see the way in which a simple kiss left Harry teetering on the brink. He didn’t want to pour out the stupid, desperate things he’d planned to say to Snape’s portrait or to tell Snape that it was _his_ rooms Harry took comfort in after the war. He didn’t want Snape to take his most precious secrets, and mock Harry for them. Harry wouldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t hear any of it.

Before Snape could speak, Harry pushed his hands into Snape’s hair and pulled him into another deep kiss. Snape responded with a low growl, and Harry’s heart hammered in his chest. He kissed Snape until his lungs burned and he couldn’t breathe anymore. He grappled with him and tugged him close until their bodies pressed together, hot and hard. He kissed Snape with the kind of fierce, expressive passion that he hadn’t experienced in such a long time. He kissed until he couldn’t think straight anymore, and his brain was fuzzy with need.

“Such an impulsive Gryffindor.” Snape eventually broke the kiss, his voice rough. 

“Such a bloody idiot you mean.” Harry tried to push Snape back, needing space to clear his head. “I bet this is a right laugh for you, isn’t it?” He pushed at Snape again.

Snape took a step back from Harry and retrieved his wand with a flick of his hand, pushing it into his pocket. “Do I appear to be laughing?”

“Just get off!” Harry found his last bit of control snapping at Snape’s cool, unflustered demeanour. He wanted to make Snape scream and shout and tell Harry how he was just like his arrogant father. He expected Snape’s cheeks to take on angry red blotches and spittle to catch on his lip as he yelled at Harry. He didn’t expect this calm, piercing stare and nor did he expect Snape’s silence and tacit acceptance of the situation as if kissing Harry was the most normal thing in the world. “I hate you, Snape.”

Snape’s lips whitened as they pressed together more firmly. He folded his arms and responded to Harry with silence and the same, dark stare. Harry growled when Snape didn’t move and cast a violent Summoning Charm, tugging on his jacket and yanking open the door.

“Well if you won’t piss off, then I suppose I’ll have to.”

Without a backward glance, Harry stepped out into the cold. In sympathy with his mood, the sky cracked with thunder and the heavens opened to release fat droplets of rain. Harry paid little attention to the downpour and walked as quickly as he could until he found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving Grimmauld Place and Severus Snape far behind.

 


	11. Chapter 11

_“Seems to me like I'm just scared of never feeling it again…It's time to let it go, go out and start again…I've got high hopes, it takes me back to when we started…and the world keeps spinning”_

\- Kodaline, High Hopes 

Harry half expected Snape to have gone by the time he returned, soaking wet and shivering from the thunderstorm which seemed to go on for hours. The night had drawn in, and he dimly wondered how many hours had passed since the earlier duel. He stripped off his jacket and made his way into the kitchen, leaving a trail of water through the hallway. 

Instead of finding the house cold and empty, Snape sat at the large dining table with a voluminous text covered with notes and commentary. His fingers tightened momentarily around his quill and he didn’t look up.

“I would have thought an Auror capable of casting a simple drying charm. Or perhaps you wished to make a dramatic entrance after your earlier tantrum?”

The all too familiar anger wormed its way underneath Harry’s skin and pulsed through his body. He clenched his hands by his side, muttering a drying charm. “I didn’t have a tantrum.”

“Didn’t you?” Snape steadfastly refused to look at Harry. “Well you can rest assured, it will not happen again. Foolish of me to think you had matured since your school days. I’m sure the experience will elicit horrible nightmares.”

Harry felt a pang of guilt, and he pulled out a chair with a scrape to sit opposite Snape. “If all my nightmares were like that, I’d be much happier about going to sleep.”

Snape’s lip curled and he turned a page with a little more force than was necessary. “Given all your experience, I am surprised you were so shaken by a simple kiss.”

Harry gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to fly off the handle again. The curt response from Snape and the assurance it would never happen again left him cold, and a wave of desperation overwhelmed him. 

“When it comes to you and me nothing’s _simple_ , least of all, this.” Harry paused. “Why did you do it?”

Finally, Snape looked up. “If that’s the question you have been asking yourself while walking in the rain, you are even more of a fool than I thought.”

Harry resisted the urge to start casting horrible spells at Snape. Barely. “Is that right?”

Snape nodded, his expression cold. “You might have been better served asking yourself why you responded.” He closed his book with a slam, which made Harry jump. “Eagerly, I might add.”

“You don’t have to sound so bloody smug about it.” Harry pulled a face. He took a deep breath, and faced Snape squarely. He mustered his courage, and tried to keep his voice level. “If you must know, I was thinking about Malfoy.”

Snape let out a snarl, followed by a bitter laugh. He stood violently and stalked to the door. “And there is my answer.”

“Stop, please!” Harry moved swiftly to Snape and placed his hand on his arm, determined to finish what he’d started. “Wait. Let me finish.”

Snape looked down his nose at Harry with a fierce glare. His face was pinched with anger, and Harry took another deep breath, letting his words tumble from his lips.

“It was good when we were together. It helped, after the war.”

“Love’s young dream by all accounts.” Snape pursed his lips. “Get to the point, Potter.”

“It was good and…” Harry trailed off. Breathe, he reminded himself. Just keep breathing. “It was good, and I loved him.” 

It was the first time Harry had acknowledged it out loud, and even that was a relief of sorts. He’d been quick to say _I miss him_ whenever friends would ask. I miss him, I want him, I wish he could just come back. I wish his dad wasn’t a total prick, I want to hold him again, I wonder how he is. But this was the first time Harry had talked about love to anyone other than Draco. Love. _Loved_. Past tense. 

The memories of Draco were more fleeting now, like pensieve images. The times in Snape’s old rooms blurred into one long image, of two boys Harry hardly recognised anymore. He wondered when he had become so lost and angry, and why he'd never noticed how closed off he’d allowed himself to become to the possibility of anything else.

“And now?” Snape stayed very still.

“I’d like to know how he’s doing.” Harry shrugged and rubbed his cheek, rough with morning stubble. “I hope he’s happy. That’s better than it was. I used to hope he was miserable.” 

_I used to hope he was lost without me. As lost as I was without him._

Harry swallowed and met Snape’s steady gaze. “The Muggles are one thing. That’s easy. Uncomplicated. I suppose part of me always thought I should wait for him.” He let out a huff of breath and he lifted his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I know this is different. It seems important not to fuck this up. Whatever this is.”

Snape moved painstakingly slowly, and brushed his fingers over Harry’s scar. He moved a little hair back from Harry’s forehead and let his touch linger. He stayed silent for a moment before responding. “Yes.”

The tender touch sent a rush of need through Harry, more powerful than the instinctive reaction to his thorough kissing. This need was different. It wasn’t driven by arousal or desire, but by the ache in his heart which never fully seemed to ease. 

Snape’s stare lacked the contemptuous, angry look it sometimes held. He didn’t exactly look open, but he didn’t appear to be angry with Harry for a change. Instead he continued to toy with the strands of Harry’s hair in a way which was both maddening and soothing. Everything Snape did was full of contradictions which made Harry’s head spin. 

They watched one another for a heartbeat, and a surge of emotion coursed through Harry and quickened his heartbeat. He drew a shaky breath and brushed past Snape. He made his way into the living room and hoped Snape would follow. He pushed his hands into his pockets and tried to hold himself together, because it wouldn’t do to break down now. Not when he wanted to show Snape he didn’t always run off and throw tantrums. Not when he wanted to show Snape he was an adult with all sorts of tricks up his sleeve. Not when he needed to remember how to breathe, and put one foot in front of the other.

“Do you intend to sit?” Snape settled himself on the sofa and crossed his legs. He raised an eyebrow at Harry and patted the cushion next to him. “Or would you prefer to stand there gormlessly?”

Harry took a seat next to Snape and shivered. He smelled spicy and his proximity made Harry’s breathing hitch. “You’re impossible.”

“Indeed.” Snape studied Harry carefully, his expression smooth. “I did not intend for this to happen. From what I can gather, you have been interested in little more than fleeting moments of pleasure since Draco’s departure.”

Harry flinched. He looked miserably at his hands and twisted them in his lap. He bit back his instinctive desire to argue because, for some reason, Snape could read him like a bloody book. “Not quite. Maybe. I haven’t exactly been looking.”

“No,” Snape agreed. He tapped his finger against his lips and looked straight ahead, clearly considering his next move. “I have precious little time for one night stands. That is not how I prefer to conduct my relationships. I have several regular acquaintances that know my needs intimately. I have no desire for that from you.”

Harry swallowed, an unexpected jolt of jealousy making him frown. “What _acquaintances_? I don’t particularly want to be with someone with loads of special friends either, thanks.”

Snape looked briefly at Harry. “You would expect me to cease making such arrangements if we were to pursue this?”

Harry balled his hands into fists. The thought of Snape making _arrangements_ left him unsettled and angry. “Yes, I bloody well would.”

Snape’s lips twitched. “Can I assume you would be prepared to afford me the same courtesy?”

Harry stared at Snape. “I don’t have anyone. You know that.”

“You do, however, have a lifestyle of sorts.” A flicker of anger crossed Snape’s features and Harry wondered if Snape was actually _jealous_ of the strangers he met on his nights out.

“Do you really think that’s what makes me happy?” Harry pulled a face. It was depressing to admit to being miserable out loud.

“No.” Snape shook his head, his voice smooth. “I think surrounding yourself with strangers served a purpose. I do not believe for one moment it left you truly satisfied.”

Snape drew out the word _satisfied_ and gave Harry the kind of dark look which sent a shiver of arousal through his body. Harry wondered when Snape’s voice had started making him hard instead of absolutely furious. 

Harry gave Snape a wry smile. “You say stuff which makes me think you don’t have a clue. But then you say something else, and it’s like you know me – better than I know myself.” 

“Perhaps.” Snape let his hand settle along the back of the sofa. His fingers found their way to Harry’s neck and stroked the sensitive skin. Harry hadn’t realised how cold he was until the warmth of Snape’s touch against his skin sent a spark of pleasure through him. He leaned back a little and felt his lips part at the touch – it was so innocent in a way, yet with Snape everything was loaded. The fact that Snape wanted to touch Harry at all caused him to flush with warmth.

“I will not be another one of Harry Potter’s conquests.” Snape’s eyes bored into Harry, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. “There are matters we must discuss.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t want to know about each of your _acquaintances_ or however you put it and I really don’t fancy talking about the last two years.” Harry’s voice faltered. The kissing had been much easier than this. Much easier than being stared at, interrogated and spoken to in monosyllables. 

Snape studied the fingers on his free hand as his other continued to trace maddening patterns on Harry’s neck. “I do not intend to ask any further questions about the many notches on your bedpost, Potter. I have no desire to hear about the detail of your conquests.”

“And you’re so perfect, I suppose?” Harry rolled his eyes. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

Snape gave Harry a dark stare. “Your sexual preferences, and mine.”

Harry swallowed, his body heating. He squirmed a little under Snape’s gaze and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough. He wondered how he had ended up here on an antique sofa and chatting about his sex life with Severus Snape. Chatting about having sex _with_ Severus Snape. “Isn’t that the sort of thing people just work out as they go?”

Snape shook his head. “It is not something I like to leave to chance. There are particular activities I enjoy and any partner of mine should at least be open to such…activities.”

Harry’s breath left him in a whoosh. His mind filled with images of the kind of things Snape might enjoy, and the scenes he imagined left him almost giddy. He flicked his tongue over his lips and leaned closer. “Go on, then. Tell me.”

Snape’s eyes bored into Harry and he slipped his hand into Harry’s hair. He clenched the thick strands between his fingers and tugged a little, urging Harry closer. “I have been known to enjoy inflicting pain on my partners from time to time.”

Harry’s lips tugged into a smile and his cheeks heated. His hands were clammy and his heart rate quickened. “Casting Unforgivables and horrible hexes, or something else?”

Snape smirked. “Something far more pleasurable for both parties.” He dropped his hand from Harry’s neck and traced a lazy circle on Harry’s thigh with his finger. The motion sent light jolts of pleasure through Harry’s body, making every nerve tingle with anticipation. Even through his thick jeans, Snape’s touch warmed Harry’s skin and left him aching. 

“You’re into kinky stuff.” Harry tried to sound more confident than he felt, a rush of pleasure coursing through him. “ _Brilliant_.”

Snape’s cool composure faltered and he laughed. The sound was deep and rich, without a trace of malice. It warmed Harry and he determined to make Snape laugh more often. 

“The idea is not unfamiliar to you?”

“It’s not something I’ve done.” Harry thought of the magazines and stories he sometimes looked at when his nights out in Muggle bars had become less frequent. He swallowed at the memory of the images which particularly appealed to him, and wondered what it might be like if those fantasies became reality. “It’s something I’d like to do. It’s just finding the right person. Someone I trust.”

“I see.” Snape brushed his hand over Harry’s thigh. “And do you trust me?”

Harry took a moment to respond. He took in the slim lines of Snape’s face and remembered their fights and the fierce anger on Snape’s face just before he kissed Harry. 

When he spoke, Harry answered as honestly as he could. “Perhaps.”

Snape removed his hand from Harry’s thigh and nodded. “That will do for now.”

The next day Snape left early to go to the Ministry, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. He paced restlessly back and forth, trying to make sense of the previous evening. 

_I have been known to inflict pain on my partners from time to time_.

_Do you trust me?_

Harry shivered, caught somewhere between ‘yes, always’ and ‘no, never’. There was no middle ground when it came to trust. However complicated Snape might be, his intentions were either genuine or they weren’t. Harry ran a hand through his hair and tried to recall every twitch of Snape’s lips, every cryptic remark and every subtle touch. In the dim light of the living room they had done little more than talk into the small hours of the morning. For the first time in ages, Harry had slept uninterrupted by unwelcome dreams. The strokes of Snape’s fingers through his hair had been almost hypnotic.

Harry had taken the opportunity to ogle Snape when he wasn’t looking. He had let his eyes trail over Snape’s backside and long, lean legs encased in fitted black trousers whenever Snape rose to pour another whisky. He had focused on Snape’s hands as his fingers ran down the length of Harry’s arm. Harry swallowed and allowed himself to indulge his fantasies for a heated moment, as he imagined the things Snape could do with his fingers. The slim length of Snape’s hands stroking over his bare flesh elicited a soft groan of pleasure. The deft way Snape handled everything and the thought of the way he might handle _Harry_ sent heat flaring in his belly.

“Severus.” Harry played with the sibilant sound of Snape’s name. “Severus Snape. My…” Harry winced. Boyfriend? Too ridiculous for words. The idea of Snape being someone’s _boyfriend_ made Harry grin. Partner? Too formal. That implied a certain period of togetherness, not a couple of angry kisses and a cryptic conversation. Future? Harry’s cheeks heated and he wondered if he’d look back on this moment when he had grey hair and couldn’t fly his broom quite so high anymore. Perhaps this was one of those moments. Like Malfoy coming down to breakfast in his scarf, or Ginny saying in as nice a way as possible that she didn’t get the sense there was a future for her and Harry. One of _those_ moments. One of the important ones. 

“Don’t bugger it up,” Harry muttered to himself.

“What are you buggering up now?” Hermione’s voice came from the fireplace and Harry turned quickly, just in time to see her step through.

“It’s been ages.” Harry pulled Hermione into a bear hug and didn’t let her go for quite a long time. Eventually she mumbled something which sounded like his name, and Harry released her with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that.”

Hermione looked at him curiously, her face set in a concerned frown. “What’s happened? You haven’t heard anything about the Macnair case have you?” Her face paled. “There hasn’t been an accident?”

“Of course not.” Harry was quick to reassure her. “Do you think I’d be standing around here hugging if there had been?”

“I suppose not.” Hermione’s worried expression lifted. “Ron told me about your problems at the Ministry. Harry, I’m worried about you. You’re holed up here with Professor Snape and that can’t possibly be good for you. I know how strange it must have been for you to find him alive – after all of those years of thinking about him, and wondering.”

Harry stared at Hermione. “I didn’t spend years thinking about Snape.”

“You did, actually.” Hermione made her way to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water, placing it on the stove and lighting it with a flick of her wand. “You always said going to his rooms made you feel safe. I remember it quite clearly. There’s always been some sort of connection there and I’m not sure you ever fully dealt with the fact you didn’t get to make amends after seeing his memories.”

Harry spluttered at Hermione and glared at her. “How the bloody hell do you do that? How do you know _everything_?”

Hermione looked smug and smiled at Harry. “Call it intuition. Are you and Professor Snape on better terms now?”

“You could say that.” Harry’s cheeks heated and he raised his eyes to look at Hermione. “With all the snogging and stuff.”

Hermione dropped her mug with a clatter and stared at Harry, her eyes wide. “All of the _what_?”

Harry grinned. “What happened to intuition?”

“There’s intuition and then there’s you and Professor Snape.” Hermione’s concerned look returned. “Are you quite sure this is a good idea?”

“Not in the slightest,” Harry replied cheerfully. “In fact, I think it might be one of the barmiest ideas I’ve had in a long time.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Then why?” She ushered Harry back into the living room and handed him a mug of tea. “Don’t you think the situation with him is complicated enough?”

“I don’t think it could get much more complicated,” Harry muttered. He sighed and took a sip of his tea, which was sweet and milky. Hermione always made the best tea. “Am I being an idiot?”

“No, of course not.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Being an idiot is bringing a Muggle back to Grimmauld Place after a night out, or pursuing men who remind you of Draco. _That’s_ idiotic.”

“Thanks very much.” Harry huffed.

Hermione squeezed Harry’s hand. “I know you were hurt. We all do daft things when someone we love does something stupid. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

Harry nodded, remembering a particularly rocky period in Hermione and Ron’s relationship. He gave her a tentative smile. “Yeah, I remember.”

Hermione took another sip of her tea, and a small smile played around her lips. “I always thought he was rather handsome, you know. In a mean sort of way. He’s very intelligent, I imagine he could talk for hours about potions and things.” Hermione’s face took on a dreamy expression.

“Hermione!” Harry laughed and nudged her with his elbow. “Hands off.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” Hermione looked seriously at Harry. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

Harry nodded and gave Hermione a look that he hoped said _don’t worry so much_.

“I will. I promise.”


	12. Chapter 12

_“Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife - offer me that deathless death, good God, let me give you my life”_

\- Hozier, Take me to Church 

Snape arrived back from the Ministry just as Harry finished washing the mugs he and Hermione had used for their tea.

“You had visitors today?” Snape unbuttoned his outer robes and arched an eyebrow at Harry.

Snape’s fingers pressed and released the buttons. Harry flicked his tongue over his lips and nodded mutely. The fact that Snape had the power to do this to Harry’s cock by undoing buttons was a very bad sign. Snape had _a lot_ of buttons. “Hermione. We chatted for ages.”

“Is that so?” Snape folded his robes carefully and rolled up his shirt sleeves slowly. He disrobed with such deliberate precision that Harry suspected Snape realised exactly the sort of impact it was having on Harry. “What would you have to discuss for such a long time?”

“I told her about us.” Harry shrugged. 

Snape’s expression caught uncomfortably between surprise and displeasure. The corner of his mouth twitched and he glared at Harry. “And what _precisely_ did you tell her?”

“Oh, you know.” Harry bit back a grin. “I told her I’m pretty sure you’re well endowed, because I don’t think that was your wand pressed against my leg yesterday. More than well endowed, actually.” Harry licked his lips at the pleasing memory. “I mentioned there might be a reason you used to hang out in dungeons. Plenty of shackles and stuff.” Harry attempted to look innocent. “She suggested I call you Professor if you spank me. We thought you’d like that. Oh, and she thinks you’re handsome by the way.”

Snape’s cheeks had taken on a nearly purple hue and he advanced towards Harry. “I sincerely hope you’re joking, Potter. I have had a long day dealing with Ministry idiots and I do not expect you to sit around with your little friends discussing my _cock_ or my sexual preferences. Are we quite clear?”

Harry laughed, and ran his fingers over Snape’s cheek. He nodded, shivering a little as he found himself rather effectively pinned against the kitchen counter. “We’re clear, and I’m teasing you. Which I enjoy, by the way.” He let his hands drop to Snape’s belt and he toyed with it, meeting his fierce gaze. “Do you want me to relieve a bit of that stress?”

It was easier than it should have been. Falling into a routine of not-quite-anger, followed by gentle teasing and the kind of desire Harry hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

Snape snorted and captured Harry’s hands at the wrists. His eyes flickered with warmth and he pressed Harry more firmly against the counter. “You are playing a _very_ dangerous game.”

“Am I?” As heat spread from Harry’s chest to his neck, he suspected he hadn’t been overly successful in his attempt to look unflustered by his current predicament. “I’m just welcoming you back from a long day at work.”

“I see.” Snape released Harry and moved towards the door.

“Snape?” Uncertain, Harry he cleared his throat. He already missed the warmth of Snape’s body pressed against his. “Severus?”

Snape turned in the doorway and gave Harry a _look_. The sort that made Harry’s heartbeat quicken. The kind of look which was loaded with delicious promises. The kind of look Harry thought he might have been waiting for forever.

“I trust you know where my room is?” Without another word, Severus turned his back on Harry and left the room.

Harry took another shower before he went to see Severus. He took the stairs two at a time and washed quickly, careless strokes of soap caressing every inch of his body. His cock was already half hard. When he finished, he pulled on some baggy pyjama bottoms which masked his arousal as much as possible. After a moment’s deliberation, he decided to leave his usual comfortable T-shirt for another night. His bare chest wasn’t anything Severus hadn’t already seen, after all.

Harry made his way to Severus’ room, and knocked on the door. He received a low grunt in response, and he pushed open the door.

“I was beginning to think you had lost your way.” Severus peered at Harry and let out a huff. “You showered?”

Strangely nervous, Harry nodded. “Isn’t that better?”

“That depends.” Severus patted the spot on the bed next to him. “I would have preferred to join you, given the option.”

The statement made Harry weak at the knees as images flashed through his mind of Severus pressing him against the tiles, and whispering all kinds of filth in his ear. He gulped and raked his hand through his damp hair.

“I’ll remember that next time.”

“Be sure you do.” Severus lifted the duvet and gave Harry a pointed look. “Do you intend to stand there staring for the remainder of the evening, or are you coming to bed?”

Harry made his way to the bed and slid under the duvet. He’d had more than his fair share of sex, but somehow this was different. Gone were his usual flippant comments, and his confident desire to take charge of the situation. Instead, he found himself pressing close to Severus with an urgent need which surprised him. He brushed his lips to Severus’ chest and breathed in the now familiar scent of him.

“Well, here I am.” He sounded cocky, even to his own ears and he wondered if Severus was fooled, even for a minute. Here I am. Do whatever you want. Take me hard. Fuck me faster. Just don’t leave me. Please. Harry breathed out, his breath warm against his cheek as he looked up and finally met Severus’ eyes.

“Here you are.” Unlike Harry, Severus didn’t sound at all flummoxed or uncertain. Instead, he pushed Harry back onto the pillows and flicked his tongue in the shell of Harry’s ear. “Eager little thing.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed with heat. He wondered fleetingly about afterwards. Perhaps Severus would fuck Harry and send him back to his own room, having claimed a victory. Perhaps he would let Harry stay in his bed until morning. Harry thought he might like that.

Before he could think further about Severus’ motives, Harry found his lips captured in a searching kiss. This, at least, was familiar territory. With a groan, he arched up against Severus and kissed him back. 

If the first kiss had asked a question, the second one answered. _I want you._

The persistent, niggling doubts were swept away when Severus kissed Harry in that mind-melting way. He didn’t know what kind of things Severus had to do to keep his cover during the war, but Harry was fairly certain kissing someone into submission wasn’t the usual Death Eater way of doing things. This wasn’t the kind of thing someone could just fake.

The thought that Severus wanted Harry in his bed made him warm all over. He slid his hands over the rough skin of Severus’ back, determined to explore every inch. The war had left its trace on both of them, he realised. His fingers found Severus’ scars, and he ran the palms of his hands over each and every one. He dimly thought that if Severus was one for pillow talk, Harry would trace the scars with his tongue afterwards. They could talk about Cornwall, and maybe about the war. They would talk about _this_ and Harry would find every welt and mark on Severus’ skin that he hid from the rest of the world. 

“ _Harry_.” His name from Severus’ lips made Harry deepen the kiss, pressing their bodies together. Severus’ hands moved down Harry’s sides, and he broke the kiss momentarily. He moved off Harry and propped himself up on the pillow, watching Harry with dark eyes and stroking his fingers in a very distracting way over Harry’s chest. “Strip. I want to see all of you.”

With a shudder of pleasure, Harry pulled off his pyjamas. He wished he could do so in way which looked less clumsy, less uncertain. I’ve had loads of sex, he wanted to say. This is just different. I’m not a kid. Take me seriously. He raised a trembling hand to Severus’ face and pulled him into another kiss, because it was easier than talking – it was easier than worrying about the kind of things he might blurt out if given the opportunity. 

“Do you intend to stay completely silent for the duration of our night together?” Severus grazed his teeth against Harry’s jaw once he had divested himself of the remainder of his clothes. “How disappointing. I was hoping you would be a little more _vocal_.”

Harry’s hopes of maintaining his composure disappeared. He tipped his head back a little to give Severus better access to his neck. “I don’t want to say anything stupid.”

“What happened to all of your confidence?” Severus brushed his lips down Harry’s neck and nibbled at a particularly sensitive spot. “Only a short while ago you were making jokes about relieving my stress and sharing our secrets with the world.” He bit down on Harry’s neck a little more firmly, his fingers sliding along Harry’s stomach. “I should have taken you there and then as I originally intended, while you were so full of fight.”

Harry let out a low groan at the thought of Severus fucking him over the kitchen counter, his body suffused with pleasure. He tried to ignore the distraction of Severus kissing and nipping at his exposed skin, in order to formulate a sentence that didn’t involve the words _please_ or _touch me_. “I don’t think I’d have minded. At all.”

Severus hummed in agreement, and ran his fingers further down Harry’s stomach. “I prefer my partners to indicate they are enjoying themselves. Whether through inane babbling or otherwise.”

Severus smirked against Harry’s skin. Harry laughed, and groaned when Severus wrapped his hand around his cock. “ _Fuck_. I suppose you do like to be called Professor, then? Filthy bastard.”

Severus chuckled and moved lower, throwing the sheets off the bed and exposing Harry to the cool air. “Perhaps. Under the right circumstances. However, you are not currently in detention, although I have no doubt I will be keen to put you there on a regular basis in the future. I believe Severus will suffice.”

Harry sucked in a sharp breath at the thought of calling Severus _Professor_ under those circumstances. “What happens in detention these days? Because I hope to Merlin it’s not chopping flobberworms.”

Severus looked up from Harry’s stomach, where he had been teasing Harry’s belly button with his tongue in a very distracting manner. “When I am afforded an opportunity to discipline unruly students in private, there are several methods I like to employ.” Severus breathed over Harry’s cock which twitched with appreciation. He ran his thumb over the sensitive tip of Harry’s cock, his slim fingers wrapping around the aching length. “A cane, for example.”

“Bloody hell.” Harry let out a hiss of appreciation. He bucked into Severus’ hand and struggled to control himself. “Gods, I love your hands.” He bit his bottom lip because that was exactly the kind of thing he had hoped to avoid blurting out in the heat of the moment.

“We’re not going to get terribly far if you continue to stop yourself from simply _letting go_.” Severus slid his hands under Harry’s backside and ran his fingers over his thighs. “Tell me, Harry, what do you enjoy most of all?”

Harry’s cheeks heated and he closed his eyes briefly to avoid having to look at Severus. “I thought you were the one with all the Outstanding N.E.W.Ts. Can’t you figure it out?”

Severus snorted softly and reached into his drawer, withdrawing a small bottle. “I have a good idea, but I believe I asked you to tell me.” His voice held a note of command which sent a shudder of pleasure through Harry’s body.

Harry watched Severus uncork the bottle, and sucked in a breath when he saw Severus slicking his fingers. He swallowed and nodded in his direction. “That. I like that. Very much.”

“Is that so?” Severus gave Harry a look which nearly took Harry’s breath away. He pushed Harry’s legs up and nudged them apart until Harry was completely exposed to Severus’ gaze. He rubbed his well-oiled fingers along Harry’s crease, teasing and massaging in a way which made Harry dizzy with need. “Like this?”

“Just like that…” Harry let out a low groan of arousal and shifted his legs wider. He reached for Severus’ free hand and squeezed it briefly, swallowing thickly. “Please…I want to feel you inside me.”

Severus responded with a hum of appreciation. He continued to keep his gaze trained on Harry as he slipped a finger inside him, slowly at first. “Have you come like this before, Harry?”

“Not exactly.” Harry clutched onto the sheets and his words caught in his throat. 

“But you could?” Severus added another finger, and pushed them into Harry slowly. The intensity with which Severus watched him was nearly enough to make Harry come undone. The quick fucks he’d had over the past few years were nothing in comparison to the intimacy and intensity of this moment, with his body stretched naked and vulnerable to Severus’ gaze.

“I reckon I could give it a go.” Harry tried to grin at Severus, but the slow massage of fingers inside him made him unable to do anything more than lie back on the pillows, breathing raggedly. “Severus…” 

“Good boy.” Severus’ voice had an unusual depth of emotion to it, and he gave his fingers a rough twist inside Harry. “I think you will very much enjoy some of the things I have planned for you.”

“Like what?” Harry could hardly speak so intense was his arousal, and the pressure of Severus’ fingers inside him made him want to beg for all sorts of things. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth and rocked back onto Severus’ hand, letting out a strangled shout when Severus added more lubricant and pushed a third finger inside him.

“Toys.” Severus turned his fingers again and began to work them more roughly inside of Harry. “I would like to see how much you can take for me. I want to stretch your limits.”

“Fuck, _yes_.” Harry nodded and closed his eyes to try to regulate his breathing.

“Look at me,” Severus ordered. Harry opened his eyes with a snap, his cheeks heating. Severus gave him a nod and continued to move his fingers with smooth strokes. “I would like to see how you enjoy pain. I would very much enjoy taking my belt to you, amongst other things.”

The image of Severus using thick toys on Harry, and the idea of leather sliding over his buttocks nearly tipped Harry over the edge. He found he couldn’t respond to Severus with anything other than an embarrassing whimper. 

Severus slipped one of his fingers from Harry and focused on using two to stimulate him until every part of Harry’s body ached with the desire to come. Each slight movement made him feel as if he was on the brink of coming, until eventually he came with a strangled cry. He clenched around Severus’ fingers and his cock pulsed. The intensity of the orgasm left Harry panting for breath and his legs dropped down as he became quite unable to hold any kind of position anymore. 

With a groan, Severus pulled his fingers slowly from Harry and shifted up next to him. “So _very_ hungry – to come without your cock even being touched.” He brushed his lips along the lines of Harry’s jaw, his breathing heavy. 

“If you keep doing things like that, we’ll never leave the bedroom.” Completely boneless, the best Harry could do was capture Severus’ lips in a slow kiss. 

Severus responded, raising his hand to Harry’s cheek and pulled him closer. The kiss was firm and deep, without the urgency of the previous kisses. Severus nipped at Harry’s lip and moved to his neck, keeping him close. 

When Harry had recovered sufficiently to speak properly again, he broke the kiss and ran his hand down Severus’ torso. “Can I suck you off?”

“It would be hard to say no, when you put it so nicely.” Severus rolled his eyes and settled on his back. He slowly stroked his cock, and Harry watched the display with a fierce jolt of pleasure. The size of him made Harry’s mouth water, and led him to picture all kinds of filthy things. He imagined Severus taking him hard, and the delicious combination of pleasure and pain that might result from that. 

“Is that why you decided not to take me up against the counter the first time?” Harry brushed his fingers against Severus’, which continued to stroke over his cock with a slow movement. 

Severus smirked in response and tugged Harry’s hair, urging him forwards. “We will work up to that. I have ways and means of ensuring you are sufficiently relaxed to be taken quickly, if that is what we both desire.”

Harry swallowed, his spent cock already responding to that particular thought. With a groan of approval, he stroked his fingers over Severus’ chest. He traced the pads of his fingers over the scars and welts and leaned in to flick his tongue over them. 

Severus tightened his hand in Harry’s hair, his voice a languid murmur. “Do get on with it, Potter.”

Harry happily obliged, shifting lower on the bed. He looked up at Severus who gave him a dark stare, and shivered happily under the gaze. He moved Severus’ hand away, flicking his tongue over the tip of Severus’ cock. He smelled clean and soapy, and his cock was thick and pleasingly hard. With a low moan, Harry sank down over Severus and sucked him deep into the back of his throat. He worked hard to relax his throat and took the full length into his mouth.

“You have learned some tricks, I see.” Severus’ voice was thick and raspy which spurred on Harry’s movements. “I expect you like to have your mouth fucked?”

Harry let out a small gurgle of pleasure and raised his eyes in a silent plea. With a deep groan, Severus clenched both of his hands into Harry’s hair and thrust up, hard. The way Severus abused his mouth and thrust without apology deep into Harry’s throat left Harry dizzy with need. He wanted Severus to be every bit as rough and brutal as Harry was sure he could be. He imagined Severus could fuck like he duelled, full of anger and passion. Harry slid his hands over Severus’ legs and pulled back to suck him properly, letting his tongue work along the underside of Severus’ cock. He took his time, savouring every bump and every rough slide of Severus’ cock into his mouth. The movements sped up, as Harry’s saliva covered every inch of Severus’ prick. His mouth hurt in the best of ways from the stretch, and he clawed at Severus’ torso, wanting to hear him.

With ragged breaths, Severus thrust harder into Harry’s mouth and it wasn’t long before he came with a guttural cry. Harry’s name fell from Severus’ lips, and as he swallowed down every last drop of Severus’ fierce orgasm, Harry wondered if hearing Severus say his name in a voice thick with arousal was his favourite sound in the world.

Harry pulled back slowly, and wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. His cheeks heated at the look Severus gave him, and he moved up the bed to lie beside Severus.

“Do you think I have no desire to kiss you anymore?” As if he could read Harry’s mind, Severus ran his thumb over Harry’s cheek. “Or do you imagine I will wait to fuck you before I send you back to your room?”

Harry swallowed, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “I don’t know…honestly, I don’t know.”

“Silly, foolish boy.” Severus sighed and tugged Harry down into a slow kiss. He broke the kiss after a moment and flicked his hand to bring the duvet back onto the bed and around them both. “You will stay here tonight. I have no intention of letting you go.”

Harry’s heartbeat quickened and his body flooded with warmth. He pressed his head to Severus’ chest and closed his eyes, just for a moment. 

He fell asleep to the soft stroke of fingers through his hair, and the steady beat of Severus’ heart.

Harry woke with a shout, sitting bolt upright. His throat was raw from the kind of tears which came in dreams but never seemed to actually fall. His body trembled, slick with perspiration and he gulped at the air trying to remember how to breathe – how to steady his racing heart.

“Please don’t kill him.” The vivid picture of Snape’s body broken on the floor of Grimmauld Place filled his mind and he choked back a sob, his shoulders shaking with the strain of biting back his tears.

“Hush, now. I’ve got you.” 

Instead of waking to the usual darkness of his own room, Harry’s eyes adjusted and he remembered where he had fallen asleep. With Snape. With _Severus_.

“I’m sorry, it’s not all the time. It’s just-”

“I know.” Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him carefully back onto the bed. The cocoon of Severus’ arms gave Harry comfort and he pressed close to Severus, his eyes closing once more. He swallowed back another wave of emotion, as Severus began to slide his fingers soothingly through Harry’s hair.

“They tried to kill you. Here. At Grimmauld Place.”

“They?” Severus continued to brush his fingers slowly through Harry’s hair. Harry couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if Severus was almost rocking him ever so gently. The sensation made him feel relaxed and comforted, and his heart swelled.

“Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Others too, Greyback…loads of people, I couldn’t really see their faces. But you’re okay. You’re really okay.”

Severus snorted softly. “Aside from being insulted you imagine Lucius Malfoy capable of killing me, I can assure you I am alive and well.”

“Yes.” Harry ran his fingers over the nub of Severus’ nipple, and the scar just above it. “Yes, you are.”

“Sleep now, Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes once more and drifted back to sleep, with the soothing murmur of Severus’ voice keeping his bad dreams away.


	13. Chapter 13

_“There's no saving anything, now we're swallowing the shine of the summer…what makes you think I'm enjoying being led to the flood? We got another thing coming undone, and its taking us over. We don't bleed when we don't fight…throw your arms in the air tonight…”_

\- The National, Runaway 

Harry shifted and turned his head to the side. His vision was completely blocked by the blindfold Severus had placed over his eyes. Severus’ worrying smirk was the last thing he had seen.

“Severus?” Harry tugged at his bindings and found himself very effectively bound to the bedposts. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Severus ran his fingers down Harry’s spine, his voice low and rough. “ _Relax_.”

“It’s a bit difficult when I’m trussed up like a Christmas turkey,” Harry muttered. His backside was angled upwards, exposed to Severus’ every whim. “I thought we might have lazy morning sex. Perhaps make a cup of tea and eat our toast in bed. Trust you to come up with this.”

Severus swatted Harry lightly on the backside. “You woke me up from a very pleasant dream, rutting against me. When I expressed my displeasure at being woken in such a manner-”

“Displeasure my backside,” Harry muttered. He let out another shout when Severus swatted him again, and pressed his backside higher. “Come on, you were hard within minutes. You love it when I beg.”

“Perhaps.” Harry could hear the smile in Severus’ tone and he relaxed a little. “Nevertheless, I have been nothing but accommodating to date-”

“Yeah, I’m sure all the sex has been a real hardship.”

Severus let out a low growl. “I have been nothing but accommodating, but I think now it is time to introduce you to something different.” Severus pressed his lips to Harry’s ear, making him shiver. “Something where you learn a little patience – where you learn to let go in an entirely different manner.”

Harry flexed his hands and swallowed thickly when he heard Severus sliding his belt from his trousers. He had been on at Severus for days about this. What about the kinky stuff you mentioned, Severus? Do you think it’s time for one of those detentions, Professor? Severus had steadfastly ignored Harry’s pleas, giving him a look which simply said _on my terms_.

Harry had understood – or he thought he had – and he had responded with honesty to all of the questions Severus asked when they came up for air long enough to talk. He’d even chosen a word (prince) to use when it all got a bit much, because Severus seemed to like the idea of putting a seemingly unwilling Harry in detention for a thorough spanking.

“I suggest we save foolhardy Gryffindor brat and esteemed potions Professor for another day.” Severus brushed his thumb against Harry’s cheek and his other hand slid over the base of Harry’s spine. 

“What should I call you, then?” 

“My name will do just fine.” Severus rose from the bed, leaving a waft of cool air where his warm body had been. 

“Severus?”

“I’m still here, Harry.” Severus settled his hand briefly in Harry’s hair. “ _Trust_ me.”

Harry nodded, and leaned into the hand on his hair. He felt the slide of leather over his backside and groaned softly at the sensation.

The sensation of the belt cracking over his skin made Harry clench his hands, pressing up with a low cry. He had been on the receiving end of painful hexes and curses in his time, but this kind of pain was different. The steady praise which accompanied the slide and slap of the leather over his skin made Harry melt.

He wondered if it was easier for Severus to talk to Harry like this. He wondered if the praise was easier to give when Harry’s eyes were covered, and if the words of encouragement and affection were easier when Harry buckled beneath his hands. 

“Stop.” Severus paused to kiss Harry’s neck. Every touch burned Harry’s skin, and he responded with a strangled sound. 

“ _Don’t_ stop.”

Severus chuckled. He ran his fingers from Harry’s neck, sliding slowly along the length of his spine and down between his buttocks. “I have no intention of stopping. It is _you_ who must stop – stop thinking. Focus on every sensation.”

Harry nodded mutely. Severus’ voice made his body heat. He loved hearing Severus giving him instruction, when the cadence of his voice was low and warm. 

Severus moved his fingers from the base of Harry’s spine, and continued. The snap of the belt through the air came slowly at first, and the blows were light but cleverly placed. Severus increased his focus one spot or another, _one_ , _two_ , _three_ , count them, Harry. Pause. _Three_ , _four_ , _five_.

Harry became disconnected from himself, and he lost the ability to cry out or move to arch towards Severus or away from him. He floated away from his body and his breath left him in a low whine. His connection with Severus became so vital – so acute – he wondered if the world had stopped spinning and left only Harry and Severus remaining. He wanted to call out to Severus and beg him to come closer, but he couldn’t move from his position or even indicate what he wanted. Hot tears streaked his cheeks and his hands trembled in their bindings. 

As his body arched and bucked of its own accord, Harry dimly realised the steady lashings had stopped. Gentle hands worked deftly over his bindings and the hum of magic shivered along his spine. When his blindfold was removed, everything was too bright and Harry closed his eyes with a wince.

Put it back on, he wanted to say. Please. Let me stay there, where nothing hurt and nobody left – let me stay where it’s just you and me, just for a moment longer.

Instead, he couldn’t say anything. Severus settled onto the bed and carefully pulled Harry into his arms. He murmured the kind of words Harry never thought he would hear Severus say out loud, bundling Harry into his arms and keeping him close. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, along his neck and down his spine. His touch sent sparks of pleasure and a deep surge of emotion through Harry. He wanted to please Severus so much, he ached with it. He wanted to tell him _thank you_ and curl up next to him for the remainder of the day, with hot mugs of sweet tea and chocolate biscuits.

“Are you with me, Harry?” Severus’ voice pulled Harry back a little from wherever he had been – somewhere he was quite sure he’d never been before.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, and swallowed. He didn’t know what else to say, or what he should do next. The thought of being left while Severus went to shower, or make breakfast made him panic and he held onto Severus tightly.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Severus hushed Harry and stroked his fingers down his spine again. “Relax. I just want to sit here with you, and maybe later a bath – together.”

Harry melted into Severus and closed his eyes, murmuring something which might have been _I love you_.

“You must be sore. I’ve been sitting on you for ages.” Harry blinked his eyes open after a time and stretched a little in Severus’ arms.

“I am quite content.” 

Harry shifted off Severus and curled up next to him, not quite ready to move away from him entirely.

“Can we stay here for a bit?”

“We can stay here for the remainder of the weekend if you wish. I have no other plans.” Severus stretched with a wince, despite his insistence he hadn’t been in any discomfort. He stood momentarily to pour a glass of water for himself and Harry and returned, handing Harry his and slipping back under the duvet. He sipped his water slowly, and then looked at Harry carefully. “Would you like some ointment? Although there is only a little bruising, I believe the affected area may smart for some days.”

Harry trailed his hand to his backside and found the area tender to the touch. He clenched his buttocks and found he liked the sting, which reminded him pleasantly of his belting. “Do I have to?” He furrowed his brow, and looked to Severus for the answer. “I mean, do you think I should?”

Severus arched an eyebrow at Harry and rubbed his thumb over his cheek. He shook his head and leaned in to kiss Harry on the forehead, his touch lingering. “Not unless you wish.”

“Then, no.” Harry ran his hand over Severus’ chest. “Severus?”

“Hm?” Severus caught Harry’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it in a strangely intimate gesture which made Harry flood with warmth.

“Can we do that again?”

Severus’ lips twitched and he inclined his head. “I believe that would be acceptable.”

“Yeah.” Harry pressed close to Severus. His body was loose-limbed and satiated, and all tension ebbed away from him. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Severus’ skin, letting the light hair on his chest tickle his nose. “I really think it would.”

Harry woke to the pleasing scent of freshly brewed coffee. With a yawn, he stretched out on the bed. His body ached in the very best of ways. The memory of the previous day made Harry’s cheeks heat, and his face broke into a slow smile.

“Kinky bastard.” 

With a chuckle, Harry turned and breathed in the scent of Severus on the pillow beside him. The reassuring sounds from downstairs told him Severus was hard at work preparing breakfast. With a sigh of contentment, Harry hauled himself out of bed. He already missed the warmth of the duvet and the crisp cotton sheets, and he wondered if Severus might be convinced to come back to bed for a lazy morning.

Whistling, Harry made his way to the shower. The water slid over his body and eased the ache in his muscles. When he finished washing, Harry pulled on his comfortable jeans and a fresh T-shirt. He didn’t bother with socks, and padded downstairs in his bare feet.

“Good morning.” 

“Is it?” Severus looked up at Harry. A flicker of emotion crossed his features – something Harry couldn’t quite decipher.

“I certainly thought so.” Harry frowned at the curt greeting and poured himself a coffee with a yawn. “What’s up?”

“Apparently my home is now vacant.” Severus looked thoroughly displeased. “Which means I will no longer need to stay here.”

Although he knew it was only a matter of time before Severus returned to his own house, the thought of not spending their evenings together made Harry’s stomach clench. “Can’t you stay a bit longer?”

Instead of responding, Severus pursed his lips. “I thought you might be interested in this morning’s news.” He pushed the _Prophet_ towards Harry. “It seems the wanderer has returned.”

“You always speak in bloody riddles,” Harry muttered.

He turned the paper to see the front page properly, and his body tensed. He knocked over his coffee mug and let out a yelp as the scalding liquid landed in his lap.

“Shit! Oh for…” Harry cursed again under his breath and cast Severus a grateful smile when he felt the familiar sensation of Severus’ magic washing over him, drying him out. “Thanks.”

“I’m pleased to see Mr Malfoy no longer has any effect on you.” Severus stood and poured himself another coffee with his back to Harry. “Were you expecting the news?”

“Of course I wasn’t. You know we’re not in touch. You know that better than anyone.”

Harry looked back at the paper, opening it up so he could see the full article.

_**Malfoy Heir Returns to Britain** _

Draco beamed up at Harry from the paper. There was a freedom in his expression which Harry couldn’t remember having ever seen before. His clothes were Muggle – clearly a _fuck you_ to the Pureblood traditions he had been raised with. He looked as expensively turned out as ever, encased in plush velvet and bespoke tailoring. As Harry looked at the picture, the Draco in the photograph gave Harry a lazy wink. 

“I expect he will want to meet with you,” Severus commented, reminding Harry of his presence.

“I doubt that. I’m not sure what we’d even have to say to each other after all of this time.” 

As if on cue, a distinctive owl pecked on the window. With a scowl, Severus opened the window to allow the owl entrance to the house. It dropped a roll of expensive parchment on the table next to Harry. The familiar sight of the Malfoy crest and the ribbon Draco always used for his owls made Harry’s heartbeat quicken. He swallowed back a wave of emotion which threatened to overwhelm him. He pushed the parchment to one side and turned to Severus.

“You know you’ve got nothing to worry about, don’t you?”

Severus merely sipped his coffee and gave Harry a dark stare. “That remains to be seen.”

Harry woke to the sound of somebody hammering on his door, and turned over with a groan. The other side of his bed was cold, the spot where Severus usually slept having been recently vacated following his return home. Pulling a face, Harry buried his head in the pillow to breathe in Severus’ scent and mumbled into the feathers.

“Bugger off. It’s six in the morning.”

“Potter!”

Harry turned over quickly, his heart hammering. Swallowing, he got out of bed and tugged on some clothes. He made his way downstairs and yanked open the door, giving Malfoy his very best glare.

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you bloody idiot. You can’t just come knocking on someone’s door at this time.”

“I’ve been sending owls for days without any response.” Malfoy looked cross. “Not to mention it’s actually ten thirty.” Malfoy pushed past Harry and looked him up and down. “Were you in _bed_? I went to the Ministry looking for you and they told me some rot about you taking time off. Why on earth would you do that? I thought you had Shacklebolt eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“It’s none of your business.” Harry gritted his teeth and closed the door behind Draco with a slam. He went into the kitchen and flicked his wand to put on the kettle, rooting around in the cupboards for some coffee. “It’s a bit rich turning up on my doorstep demanding to know things about my life when I haven’t seen you in nearly _three years_.” Harry turned to face Draco, his voice curt. “I suppose you’ll want coffee?”

“Please.” Malfoy watched Harry carefully. “You know I couldn’t contact you when I was away. Not with father monitoring my every move. I had to let you get on with your life without him interfering.”

“And now you’re back.” Harry leaned heavily on the counter. Despite himself, the sight of Draco sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure through his body. Malfoy looked _good_. He had filled out a little, but his face still retained the same chiseled, pointed features. His clothes were atypically Muggle, albeit they looked like something from another century. Harry eyed Draco skeptically. “Is that a _cravat_? Who the fuck wears those?”

“Are you giving me fashion advice, now?” Draco snorted and gave Harry the once over. His eyes lingered in all the wrong places, making Harry feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I suggest you look in a mirror before giving anyone sartorial guidance. I won’t be told how to dress from a man wearing odd socks – with holes in,” Draco finished disdainfully.

Harry looked down at his feet, and his toes scrunched up in an involuntary apology. “Piss off, Malfoy.” He sighed and made a pot of coffee when the kettle began to whistle persistently at him. “What are you doing back, anyway?”

“I decided to stand up to father.” Draco looked proud. “I’m master of my own destiny now.”

“You got your money when you turned twenty-one, you mean.” Harry rolled his eyes and sat at the table, gesturing for Draco to take a seat. “Very brave.”

“You don’t know anything about it.” Draco looked put out, but sat nevertheless. He blew on his coffee and eyed Harry over the rim of the mug. “Besides, I missed England.”

  


_the wanderer returns_

“Just England?” Harry took a sip of his coffee, wincing when it burned his tongue.

“No. Not just that.” Draco giving Harry a flicker of a smile, his face carefully neutral.

The whole situation made Harry distinctly uncomfortable, and he glared at Draco again for good measure. “Things have changed, you know. It’s been three years.”

“You said that earlier. How have things changed, exactly?” Draco’s eyes narrowed as he studied Harry. 

A sound coming from the fireplace prevented Harry from having to respond. He stood and checked the cuckoo clock, muttering a curse when he realised the time. 

If I have to listen to one more Ministry ignoramus telling me how to do my job-.” Severus let out a low growl as he stalked into the kitchen, his robes billowing behind him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Draco and didn’t finish his complaint. His face took on a sickly palour and pink spots bloomed on his cheeks. His gaze fell on the half-empty coffee pot and empty mugs, and his expression twisted into the kind of angry sneer Harry hadn’t seen for some time. “How cosy.”

“Severus. Thank you for your assistance earlier this year.” Draco stood smoothly, and extended his hand to Severus. If he had any suspicions about the nature of Harry’s relationship with Severus, he didn’t voice them. His expression remained calm, although he arched his eyebrow briefly in Harry’s direction. “This is better than that portrait you were looking for, Potter.”

“I’d say so.” Harry’s cheeks heated, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wondered what sort of assistance Severus had provided to Draco, and why he hadn’t thought to mention anything to Harry.

Severus took Draco’s hand and gave it a somewhat violent shake. He flicked his wand to call a mug from the cupboards, which careered towards them with alarming speed. Muttering under his breath, he poured himself a cup of coffee and settled into the empty chair next to Harry. 

“Might I ask what prompted your return? I understood that America suited you rather well.” Severus’ voice was cool and he pronounced each word with careful precision.

Draco remained standing and met Severus’ gaze head on, a strange expression crossing his face. “America will still be there tomorrow. I came back for something I never should have left behind.” 

Harry did his best to ignore the way Malfoy's statement provoked images of lazy flights through the sky and kissing in front of the fire. He frowned at Severus. “You never told me anything about being in touch with Malfoy.”

Severus’ eyes bored into Harry, his voice barely level. “I was not aware the wellbeing of Mr Malfoy was at the forefront of your mind. I had foolishly been labouring under the misapprehension that your priorities might have shifted somewhat.”

Harry pulled a face and his cheeks heated further when Severus placed a possessive arm over the back of his chair. His body tensed and he met Draco’s eyes with a wince, when he saw the surprise and anger flash across his face.

“I see you’re busy, Potter.” Draco kept his voice cool. “I’ll be in touch. Severus, _so_ glad to see you alive and kicking.” Draco barely nodded his head at Severus, his voice heavy with sarcasm. 

He slammed the door behind him, setting the crockery rattling on the table.


	14. Chapter 14

_“It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you now...and I wonder if I ever cross your mind. It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk and I need you now…and I don’t know how I can do without, I just need you now”_

\- Lady Antebellum, Need You Now 

Severus withdrew his arm from Harry’s chair and sat very still. Harry could almost feel the waves of anger coming from Snape’s motionless form. When he eventually spoke, his voice was low and dark.

“I was not aware that you and Draco Malfoy are visiting one another at home these days.” Severus flicked his gaze over Harry and his lips pursed. “Did you have an opportunity to become better _acquainted_ once more?”

Harry looked down at his clothing, realizing he still wore his nightclothes. “He arrived about fifteen minutes before you did.” Harry gritted his teeth and tried to control his temper. “Thanks for the overwhelming vote of confidence.”

“You cannot blame me for reaching my own conclusions.” Severus pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I have turned a blind eye to the numerous owls landing on the breakfast table, and you and he appeared quite comfortable before I so inconveniently interrupted you.”

Harry stared at Severus, a ball of anger coiling in his stomach. “You’ve also seen me ignore every single one of those letters. You knew I’d have to speak to him at some point, I can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist.” He glared at Severus. “And while we’re on the subject of _trust_ , I notice you didn’t think to let me in on the fact you’ve been in contact with Malfoy – all this time.”

Severus’ cheek twitched and his lip curled as he gave Harry a scornful look. “You pay precious little attention to my research. It is hardly surprising you failed to put two and two together.”

“Put two and two together?” Harry’s anger increased and he clenched his hands into fists, his cheeks heating with annoyance. “I shouldn’t have to put two and two together, you idiot – that’s not how this works. You’re supposed to tell me things, not drop cryptic clues or wait for me to investigate.”

Severus scowled at Harry. “Now you have ample time to dedicate to Draco, I imagine he will be only too happy to share with you any details you wish. Perhaps you will be able to rekindle old flames while you’re at it.”

“What the bloody hell are you on about?” Harry’s heart clenched in his chest and he stood quickly, shoving his chair back. “You come in here making assumptions about whether or not I can be trusted, when you’re the one keeping all the secrets, not me.” Harry thought of the moments Severus had seen Harry at his most vulnerable and he swallowed, a wave of dread washing over him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Malfoy, anyway? Has this all been some kind of joke? I bet you’ve been having a right laugh, you and Malfoy. You’ve probably been comparing notes and joking about the fact I’m so bloody naïve.”

“I see I am not the only one jumping to conclusions.” Severus stood with almost as much force as Harry, pushing his chair away and putting distance between them. His face was paler than usual, and his dark eyes glittered strangely. “I believe we should keep our distance from one another until you have worked out precisely what it is that you _do_ want. You can find me at home whenever you wish. I have no plans.” Severus gritted his teeth and scowled at Harry. “And I can assure you I am not – nor have I ever been – laughing about _anything_ with Mr Malfoy. Indeed, there is nothing amusing at all about this miserable situation.”

Without giving Harry time to respond, Severus turned on his heel and left the room.

Harry stared at the closed door, his body still tense from the earlier row and his mind filling with confusion. “What the hell just happened?”

With no one to answer, he made his way upstairs to shower. His chest tightened and his stomach turned as he imagined losing Severus. With a groan of frustration, he tried to quell the rising panic and shook all thoughts of Draco and Severus from his mind.

The more Harry thought about Severus, the angrier he became. Left alone with his thoughts, he recalled Severus’ insistence that Harry trust him. He couldn’t help but focus on the aftermath of the war and the time he had spent waiting for Severus to appear in one of the empty frames hanging in Hogwarts. 

The shadows in the house shifted around him and Harry replayed his last conversation with Severus over and over. He couldn’t believe Severus had helped Draco without once mentioning to Harry that he knew where Malfoy was. The idea of Severus and Malfoy being in regular, secret contact left Harry cold. He thought of the scornful way Severus had looked at him during their first meeting after the war, and he balled his hands into angry fists. He was sick to death of lies and cryptic looks. Despite everything they had been through, Harry realised with a shiver of anger that he was no closer to being certain of Snape’s master plan than he had been when he had knocked on the door of the cottage in Cornwall.

Combined with his anger over the lies and half-truths, Severus’ readiness to assume the worst left Harry lost and uncertain. He stared at the fireplace until night descended, and the last remnants of sunlight disappeared. When the room became too dark to sit in comfortably, Harry lit candles and poured himself a hot whisky. He didn’t particularly like spirits cold, but on the odd occasion he had woken from a bad nightmare, Severus would heat some gently on the stove. He always added just the right amount of cloves, spices and sugar which gave the otherwise peaty drink a sweet, calming quality. He would give Harry a small measure, and sit with him until the panic lessened and the memory of his dreams had faded away into nothing. The scent of the warm, spicy spirit comforted Harry, and he let the flickering flames of the fire and the heat from his drink warm his cold cheeks.

When the cuckoo clock struck nine, he gathered his jacket and scarf together and made for the fireplace. He determined to make Severus talk to him properly – if they could get that far without yelling at one another.

“I suppose I’ll have to come to you, if you’re going to be so stubborn about it.” 

“Talking to yourself, Potter?” The fireplace flared just as Harry was about to step into it, and Malfoy stepped onto the hearth. He looked thoroughly disgruntled. He brushed his clothes with his hand, wrinkling his nose. “You need a house-elf to clean your chimney. It’s dustier than Borgin and Burkes.”

“Somewhere you go often?” Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco, and dropped his jacket and scarf back on the sofa. Severus would have to bloody well wait. He owed Malfoy a proper conversation, and now seemed as good a time as any. 

“Not really.” Draco sniffed the air and gave Harry a questioning look. “You’re drinking whisky now?”

“Not really.” Harry echoed Draco’s response and pulled a face. “I thought it might help.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Draco’s eyes glinted and he gave Harry a queer smile. “He didn’t give me any indication you and he were involved – I asked after you, all the time. He certainly kept your arrangement quiet, whatever your arrangement is. Now I know why he discouraged me from making contact.”

“He kept pretty quiet about a lot of stuff,” Harry muttered. “Drink?”

“Something strong.” Draco glared at Harry’s drink as if it offended him. “Not that. Brandy, perhaps.”

Transported back to a time when brandy at Grimmauld Place meant goodbye, Harry swallowed. He gave Draco a half smile. “It’s the same stuff you had last time. I developed a taste for it after you left.”

“Not too much of a taste I hope.” Draco arched an eyebrow, and waved his hand. His cheeks suffused with a light pink blush. “That’ll do. It wasn’t that bad, I suppose.”

“No. Not that bad at all.” Harry gave Draco a proper smile this time, and made his way to the kitchen to fill a couple of glasses. When he returned, Draco had settled on the sofa as if he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. He stretched his legs out, his arm resting along the back of the sofa.

“There you go – there’s plenty more where that came from.” Harry considered his seating options before settling on the sofa with Draco, keeping a reasonable distance between them.

“Planning to get me drunk, Potter?” Draco gave Harry an indolent smile and sipped his brandy. “Don’t you think that might be a bit dangerous? We wouldn’t want to give Professor Snape the wrong idea.”

“It’s just a drink, I’m not trying to give anyone any ideas.” Harry shifted to face Draco properly. “I know we have to talk.”

“It’s long overdue.” Draco looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for over three years. Somehow, I never seemed to find the right words.”

“I know what you mean.” Harry took a steadying sip of his drink. “I should have warned you about Severus. You didn’t deserve to find out like that.” His cheeks warmed and he looked straight ahead. “I didn’t even know if you’d care.”

“Yes you did.” Draco huffed. “Wouldn’t you?”

Harry paused for a moment before responding. “Probably. I would have liked to hear about it first – I’m not keen on surprises, not of that sort.”

“That makes two of us,” Draco muttered. “It’s not like I didn’t give you plenty of opportunities. Why didn’t you respond to any of my owls?”

Because I didn’t know if I could see you and not be in love with you anymore.

Harry didn’t speak for a moment, as his thoughts raced and his cheeks heated under Draco’s scrutiny. “I suppose I wasn’t sure how to tell you. It’s not easy, having you back.”

“Funny.” Draco didn’t look as though he thought it was funny at all. “It used to be the easiest thing in the world, you and me. Do you ever wish we could go back?”

“Sometimes,” Harry replied, honestly. “I think I’d like to be back at Hogwarts. It always felt like home – more than this place, that’s for sure.”

“Back to Hogwarts.” A smile played over Draco’s lips and he looked at Harry. “Not quite what I meant, and you know it.”

Harry took a deep breath, and looked away from Draco quickly, not willing to give his old feelings a chance to resurface. He tapped the arm of the sofa, and ran his finger along the collar of his T-shirt. The fire was too warm now – the scent of the cloves in his whisky too cloying. He took another sip of his drink to steady himself. “It’s not really an option now.” He flicked his wand to Summon the bottle of brandy. If Malfoy wanted to talk about the past, he had a feeling they’d need it. “How was America?”

“Lonely.” Draco shifted and his familiar cologne overpowered the fading scent of the hot whisky. “I wish you could have seen it, Harry. New York was my favourite.” His eyes sparkled and he smiled in a way which took Harry’s breath away. Draco was so fucking handsome when he was happy about something. 

_I did it! I got the Snitch!_

“I bet it was brilliant.” Harry’s voice faltered and he clutched his glass tightly. “Did it help?”

“I’m not taking those potions anymore if that’s what you mean.” Draco’s happiness faded and he smiled again, bitterly. “Now I’m taking different ones.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry frowned and looked across at Draco.

“So you should be,” Draco muttered. He met Harry’s gaze angrily. “I told you it wouldn’t fucking work. I said, don’t be nice – don’t try to save me.” Draco looked down at his hands, his voice rough. “But you _were_ nice. You stupid, Gryffindor arse.”

“Doesn’t look like I saved much though.” Harry raked a hand through his hair and poured himself and Draco another generous measure of the sweet alcohol. “I couldn’t save us, for a start. I would have done anything to stop you leaving – anything at all.”

“I remember.” Draco’s throat bobbed as he sipped at his drink. His tongue captured a little of the strong liquid which shone on his lip and he placed his glass on the small table next to the sofa. He slid his hands over his thighs and gave Harry a curious look. “Was there anyone before Severus?”

Harry snorted, and shook his head. “Nope. No one that mattered.”

“But others?” Draco’s eyes narrowed.

Harry nodded. His cheeks warmed and he cleared his throat. “Quite a few others.” He pulled a face. “Mainly spoilt Muggle blonds, if you must know.”

“You should have known I’m irreplaceable.” Draco looked unspeakably smug. His chest swelled a little. “I’m not surprised they didn’t last long. They had a lot to live up to.”

“Yeah.” Harry laughed, despite himself. He found Draco’s cockiness amusing instead of aggravating. He’d learned a long time ago that much of Draco’s smug confidence was a façade for his insecurities. “They certainly did.” He took another drink of his brandy, which warmed his throat. “And you?”

Draco looked cross. “Father kept me on a fairly tight leash. I managed the odd encounter here and there, but nothing more. He kept trying to force me to socialise with society witches.”

“Witches?” Harry snorted and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Your dad really takes the biscuit.”

Draco toyed with his sleeve and picked up his brandy glass, swirling the liquid in the glass. He gave Harry a look that was both fierce and desperate. “Sometimes I hated you for making me fall in love with you. Really hated you.”

Harry swallowed, the pain of Draco’s words making his chest constrict. “Then why are you here?” 

Draco looked away. “Because of the other times – the ones when I didn’t hate you at all.”

It was half a bottle of brandy and two hours later when Draco showed Harry his scars. They ran in careless lines over the Dark Mark on his forearm. They stood out from his pale skin in thin welts, which crisscrossed over one another. Harry ran his fingers over the marks and tried to fight back a wave of emotion which made it difficult to breathe.

“Why the fuck would you do something like that?” Harry didn’t mean to sound angry, but he couldn’t help it. He was furious with Malfoy. He wanted to shake him, and hold him and tell him not to be such a daft prick. He wanted to make the kind of promises he couldn’t make to Draco anymore, just to stop it from hurting even half as much. 

“You don’t have to be an ass about it, Potter.” Draco pulled his arm away and scowled at Harry. He rolled down his sleeve and pulled on his jacket, carefully rearranging the cuffs of his shirt. “It’s not something I do anymore.”

Harry pressed his lips together and gave Malfoy his fiercest glare. “You’re not to do it ever again. Promise me, Malfoy. I bloody well mean it.”

“It’s been a long time.” Draco rubbed his hand absentmindedly over his arm. “A long time with a _lot_ of therapy. I don’t think I’ll go back to doing that again anytime soon.”

“When did it start?” 

Draco shrugged in response. “When I got to America. Mother was furious when she found out.”

“She was probably just worried.” The brandy made Harry’s head spin, and he put it down with a clatter. “Is it just me or is it too warm in here?”

“It’s just you.” Draco’s mood lifted and he stood, holding his hand out to Harry. “Do you still have your broom? We could go flying. They have all kinds of ridiculous restrictions on broomstick flying in America. Besides, father insisted on keeping me grounded in case I flew off into the sunset with another depraved homosexual.” Draco smiled, without humour. 

“Drunk flying is a really bad idea, Malfoy.” 

Drinking brandy and talking about the past wasn’t a great idea either, but Harry didn’t fancy saying that out loud. 

“I thought you loved breaking rules. Don’t tell me you’re growing up?” Draco flashed Harry a smile, and looked out of the window. “A walk then, if you won’t take me flying.” He turned back to face Harry, the same maddening smile playing on his lips.

“Fine.” Harry laughed, and relented. He picked up his scarf and reached for his jacket.

“Hang on.” Draco stopped Harry and plucked his scarf from his hands. He was close - too close. His breath warmed Harry’s cheeks in soft huffs. He smelled of liquor and when he spoke, his breath carried the faintest scent of mint. “ _Accio_ Slytherin scarf.”

Harry shook his head when the scarf landed obligingly in Draco’s hand. “I only kept it because it’s warmer than my other one.”

“Liar.” Draco discarded the other scarf, and wound his old scarf around Harry’s neck. “It’s not even cashmere. You kept it because you’re a sentimental idiot, with really bad taste in men.”

“Draco…” Harry’s weak protest came out more roughly than intended.

Draco continued to pat at Harry’s scarf. He was so close now, Harry could feel the heat from the length of his entire body. Draco’s hair fell into his face and brushed against Harry’s cheek, and Harry tried to quell the desire to brush the stray strands back from Draco’s face.

“What?” Draco’s voice came out in a low murmur. His breath ghosted over Harry’s lips and he dropped his forehead against Harry’s, slipping his hands around his waist and tugging him closer still. “I missed you so fucking much. We could have been amazing, you and me. We could have been _everything_.”

“You still can.” Harry wanted to step back, but his head was fuzzy with alcohol and everything about Draco was so achingly familiar it almost made him want to weep.

“Not without you.” Draco brushed his lips to Harry’s cheek, and his voice left him in a low sigh. “ _Harry_.”

“I missed you too.” Harry desperately tried to clear his head. Everything came flooding back in a rush, which made his heart jump in his chest. It could have been three years ago, standing in his bedroom with Draco’s breath smelling like brandy and peppermints. The heartache of the years they had spent apart pushed to the surface, overwhelming everything else. “I missed you every day.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot. I could never understand why it all mattered so much to you.” For all Draco’s confidence, his voice now was reed thin and small.

Harry brushed his fingers over Draco’s cheek, his voice low. “Because it does matter, doesn’t it? Of course it bloody matters.” 

_Because it does_ wasn’t an answer, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to give the real one.

Because when I play Quidditch, I still think of you. Because I keep your scarf in the back of my wardrobe, and I don’t think I’ll ever let it go. Because there was a time I thought I’d never let _you_ go.

Because when I heard you were back, part of me wondered if I should have waited.

Because.

 _Because_.

Harry opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say the words he knew he must, Draco cut him off with a heart-stopping kiss.

He pulled Harry close and gripped onto him with furious anger. Draco kissed Harry in a way which demanded to know why Harry hadn’t just had faith in him – in them. 

“Do you remember?” Draco spoke against Harry’s lips, his voice low and rough. “Do you remember how _good_ it was?”

Harry did, but he couldn’t respond with words. Instead he answered Draco with another kiss. His reckless, impulsive instincts took over and fuelled the pain and sadness which had spanned too many years. “We never had a chance. We never had a bloody chance.”

“Then give me one now.”

Draco pulled at the scarf around Harry’s neck, and tugged at his shirt. Harry ran his hands over the familiar lines of Draco’s body and remembered the too-skinny boy standing in front of the fire, full of angry vulnerability. The image of Draco’s scars flashed before Harry’s mind and he pulled him closer, desperate to ease any pain for a fleeting moment

As he sank to the floor with Draco, another memory flooded Harry’s senses, of two boys suspended in time. They kissed fiercely and held one another as if they might not ever have another chance.

The thunder clapped outside, and the room was illuminated briefly in a flicker of light. A gust of wind from the fireplace caused the candles to flicker and the shadows to dance over the walls.

It could have been Grimmauld Place three years ago. Harry lost himself in his memories, and gave in to the full force of his desire. It was just a memory, he told himself. Just another heated kiss to go with years of waiting, and wondering.

Harry was back there, when his feelings for Draco were stronger than they had ever been. It was another stormy summer – the hours skipped past like heartbeats, and Draco’s kisses still tasted like brandy, and goodbye.


	15. Chapter 15

_“You are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first…beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth…and the history books forgot about us and the Bible didn’t mention us…you are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first”_

\- Regina Spektor, Samson 

Harry’s heart thrummed wildly in his chest. His body was slick with perspiration and his thoughts crowded his mind, each one fighting to be heard. His breath caught in his throat, and he dropped his hand over his eyes. He scrubbed his face with the back of his hand and stared miserably at the ceiling as the reality of the situation finally began to sink in.

“Well, I didn’t expect that to happen.” Draco’s voice broke into Harry’s thoughts, and he stretched over Harry to grab his wand. He cast a quick spell to summon a packet of cigarettes, which he caught neatly in one hand.

“No, it wasn’t exactly on my list of things to do tonight either.” Harry swallowed and thought of what he _had_ intended to do, a wave of panic crashing over him. 

Draco lit a cigarette and settled back onto the bed. The sheets draped across his pale limbs, the light hair on his chest and his groin still exposed to the cool night air. His hair was dishevelled and his fringe usually so carefully styled fell over his eyes. He brushed it back with his hand and took a slow drag of his cigarette, blowing a thin stream of smoke into the air.

“We’ll go and see the world. When I was in America I saw things that would take your breath away, Harry. We’re both rich enough to live just as we are and with your name we could get into all of the best clubs. We could live like kings.”

“I don’t particularly want to live like a king.” Now the heat of the moment had passed, Severus’ face flashed before Harry’s eyes and the gnawing sense of guilt intensified. His heart constricted as he could feel Snape’s dark eyes boring into his own. He saw the slippers arranged carefully next to the hearth at Spinner’s End and the cut crystal bottle filled with port, the only visible sign of wealth in Severus’ home.

“Then _I’ll_ live like a king and you can still have tea and toast for breakfast while I enjoy the finer things in life.” Draco smiled and the sight took Harry’s breath away. “We’re both powerful wizards. The world is our oyster.”

Harry’s throat constricted. “And what if I want to stay? McGonagall said there would be a place for me teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts if I wanted it. I think it would be good for me.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he put out his cigarette. “With Severus?”

Harry’s cheeks heated, the sound of Severus’ name from Draco’s lips sending another stab of guilt into his gut. “Not with Severus, for all I know he’s not even interested in going back to Hogwarts. This is for me. Because it’s something I want to do.”

“Teaching.” Draco’s nose wrinkled. “Why on earth would you do that when you have enough money to do anything you want?”

“Because I’m interested in teaching other people magic – in helping them understand how to protect themselves against the Dark Arts.” Harry hesitated. “I think I’d be good at it, too.”

“Probably.” Draco raised his eyes to the ceiling. “You’re good at everything, and I’m sure half your first year students will be madly in love with you by the end of the year. I still think it’s dull. Personally, I have no intention of working. At least you’ll have long holidays I suppose.”

Harry shivered as the cool air in the room ghosted over his skin. “I reckon I’d like to stay and help out at school over the holidays, if I can. Enough people did that for me, after all. I thought this Christmas I could do something special, I was going to speak to George about magical crackers or something.”

“Magical crackers?” Draco wrinkled his nose. “You’re so peculiar, Potter. Nobody cares about trinkets. Use some of the money in your vaults to buy everyone a Firebolt. That should soon cheer people up.”

Harry gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to lash out. The deepening sense of having done something very wrong – something unforgivable – made his head spin. “It was just an idea. Besides, I like Hogwarts during the winter.”

“You won’t be saying that once you see the property I managed to secure in America.” Draco waved his hand to dismiss the thought and slid his fingers over Harry’s chest, giving him a lazy smirk. “Ready to go again, Potter?”

“Actually…” Harry stopped Draco’s hand before it could go any lower because his body wasn’t exactly saying no. “I’m not. Not ready. I can’t do this.”

“Too much booze?” Draco’s smirk faded and he watched Harry closely.

“Not exactly.” Harry winced and moved out of the bed, tugging on his trousers and pulling his shirt over his arms. Draco watched him quietly, propped on his elbow and his expression unreadable.

“I see. So this was a goodbye fuck?” Draco’s words dripped with venom.

“Draco…” Harry’s words caught in his throat and he sat back on the bed. Draco was everything Harry had ever wanted. Once. He brushed his fingers through Draco’s hair and wondered why everything hurt so much. “ _Draco_.”

“I’m not listening to this.” Draco’s tone shifted and Harry knew Draco well enough to recognise the distress that Draco tried so hard not to show. “Don’t you say it, Harry. Don’t you fucking _dare_.” 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen – I don’t want to hurt you.” Harry reached for Draco, who shook him off.

“You don’t want to hurt me?” Draco’s breathing was rough and ragged and his voice took on a slightly hysterical pitch. “I _love_ you – what did you think this would do?”

“I love you too,” Harry whispered. Present tense? Past tense? He didn’t know anymore. “I don’t think I’ll ever _not_ love you, but it’s not the same. It’s all built on memories. Every last bit of it. We spent all evening talking about the past, about what could have been – about how good it _was_. I’m different now – you’re different.”

“Then we’ll make new memories. If you love me, let me stay.” Draco caught Harry’s hand and pulled him into a deep, desperate kiss. For one blissful moment Harry allowed himself to sink into the kiss. When Draco tugged at his shirt however, he pulled away with a groan.

“I can’t let you stay. I can’t.”

Draco dropped his hand and he threw back the sheets. With shaking hands he collected his clothes and tugged them on, his back to Harry. His shoulders tensed and shook and finally when he was fully dressed, Draco crouched on the floor and buried his face in his hands.

“Draco.” The lump in Harry’s throat made it difficult to breathe. He dropped his hand on Draco’s shoulder to find himself shaken off abruptly.

“Fuck you, Potter. Fuck _you_.” Draco stood and pulled on his blazer. He looked as handsome as he ever had, his expression cool. He smoothed a hand through his hair and he gave Harry a dark look, his lips pressed into a firm line. “He’ll never forgive you. I hope you know that. This way we all end up alone, because I won’t be your second choice.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t do that.” 

“Wouldn’t you? I didn’t think you would do _this_.” Draco’s lips curled into a sneer and he pressed close to Harry, reminding him of their first encounter after the war all those years ago. “Don’t you know that’s why we fall in love with you, Harry? Because you’re so _good_. We’re drawn to the light, don’t you see? You’re loyal. You’re _faithful_.” Draco pulled back as if being near Harry physically hurt. “You’re nothing without that. Just a sad, fucked up boy hero with no direction. Just another has-been that can’t keep his prick in his pants.”

Harry’s heart clenched and his pain and anger welled within him. “Drawn to the light? What the _fuck_ do you think I am? I’m just as lost as you, Malfoy. I always bloody have been, and you know it – or at least I thought you did. I’m not fucking infallible, and I’m nobody’s hero. I just did what I had to do.”

“Oh, I know you’re lost.” Draco’s tone turned scornful. “Poor Harry Potter, looking to fuck Death Eaters just so he can feel alive again.”

“You think that bloody thing is what I’m attracted to?” Harry jabbed his finger towards Draco’s forearm, a gesture which made Draco flinch.

“Well it stands to reason. You used to mope around Snape’s rooms long before I arrived on the scene. A little lost lamb looking for a portrait of a man who hated him just to try to find some _answers_.” Draco snorted. “Think about the men you’ve been with. You told me all about those useless, empty fucks. You might as well have put yourself up in a whorehouse in Knockturn, at least you would have made some money from it.”

“Fuck you.” Harry’s cheeks heated with anger and shame and he clenched his fists by his side to stop himself from punching Malfoy.

Draco continued without missing a beat. “You surround yourself with Weasleys and good, noble wizards. You become some kind of Ministry darling and tell yourself you’re fighting the good fight. You despise people like me – people like my family. I suppose your friends were pleased to see the back of me so you could find someone more worthy.” Draco spat out his words. “I would have given half of my vault at Gringotts to see Weasley’s face when you told him you had started shagging Severus fucking _Snape_. You love it. You fucking _love_ the pain of it. You crave it. You’re a masochist and a bloody idiot.”

Harry gritted his teeth and swallowed back the memories of his discussions with Severus – the thought of the things they had done together filling him with shame. “What I have with him is none of your business.”

“What you had with him, you mean.” Draco sneered and then smiled jubilantly. “I’ve heard rumours about the kind of man Snape is – my father has all _sorts_ of information.”

Harry’s blood ran cold and he shook his head. “You don’t know anything about him, not anymore.”

“I know he likes whips and chains. A filthy, kinky bastard my father used to say.” Draco moved close to Harry and slid his hands down his back. “If you wanted a good flogging, Potter, you only ever had to ask. Does he whip you until you scream? I bet he enjoys that. Oh, I bet he enjoys that more than you realise and for none of the reasons you think.”

Harry swallowed back a sense of crushing doubt, wondering if the world was going to crumble around him. He pushed back the images of Severus and the things they had explored together – the things he, Harry, had craved and taken such pleasure in. The shame coursed through him and he pulled back from Draco.

“It’s not like that. You don’t know. It’s not _like_ that.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he let out a startled laugh, edged with bitterness. “So you let him do those things to you?”

“I _ask_ him to!” Harry yelled back, his fury tipping him over the edge. “Stop it – please, just stop talking about it. This isn’t about him.”

“What do you ask him to do to you, Harry?” Draco kept close to Harry and dropped his hands down to Harry’s backside giving it a firm squeeze. “You’re such an eager little slut at times. I bet he just _loves_ putting shackles on those wrists of yours and hearing you cry out his name.” Draco hummed and lifted his hands to the small of Harry’s back, his voice rough. “You might as well have surrendered during the war if that’s what you wanted. We’d _all_ have enjoyed seeing that at one stage.”

“I just bet you would.” Harry pulled back from Draco’s clutches. “Just like you enjoyed all the other things that went on in the Manor. Pull the other one, Malfoy. I’ve known you too long now for you to pretend there was any glory involved in being a Death Eater.”

“How boring our vanilla sex must have seemed to you.” Draco’s voice remained cold, but his icy demeanour faltered. “I’m not surprised you’re running back to him – not that you’ll have much luck. I hope he uses one of his bloody spells on you.”

“It wasn’t boring.” Harry steadied his voice and drew a deep breath, continuing more quietly. “It’s never been boring with you and you know it. It’s…always brilliant.”

Draco twisted his signet ring on his finger and huffed, not arguing back. “Well of course it is.” He paused and then narrowed his eyes as he watched Harry. “I’m right, though. There’s something about it you like – letting someone else be powerful for once. It makes you hard. Don’t think I don’t remember.”

Harry’s cheeks heated again. “Maybe I do, but it’s not as simple as that.”

“Well he doesn’t exactly have anything else to offer. He’s poor, I gather he’s been living like a hermit since he disappeared and you can hardly tell me you’re drawn to his charm or his looks. Father said he was practically feral when they found him.” Draco grimaced as if the thought displeased him.

Harry shivered at the memory of Severus murmuring in his ear and the way he would linger in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the lean lines of Severus’ body hungrily drinking in his slender frame and dark eyes. “He’s not unattractive – or at least he’s not to me. Far from it.”

“That’s called being attracted to _power_.” Draco looked smug. “Which makes you an idiot and makes me correct.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing to do with the fact that Snape used to be a Death Eater – you of all people should know that.”

“Well I still think you’re certifiably insane.” Draco rolled his eyes and his voice steadied. “What can he give you that I can’t? What is it that you actually want?”

Harry shrugged. “I just want to be normal. Have a small house in the countryside. Maybe even make some jam.”

“Jam?” Despite his anger, Draco’s lips twitched. “Your dream is to make _jam_?”

Harry smiled as the ridiculousness of the situation overtook his pain momentarily. “I wouldn’t mind. It’s the quiet life, you see.” He looked at Draco and his smile faltered. “Not travelling the world. Not clubbing and living like kings. Just a house with two pairs of slippers and helping a couple of kids at Hogwarts learn how to cast a Patronus. That’s what I want.”

“I see.” The tension left Draco’s shoulders. “Well you’ve buggered up your chances of that fairly spectacularly.”

Another wave of guilt flooded through Harry and he nodded. “I know that.”

Draco closed the distance between them and buried his face in Harry’s neck, murmuring against his skin. “I could make jam.”

“I know that too.” Harry slipped his fingers into Draco’s hair, tipping their foreheads together when Draco looked up. Draco’s breath was warm against Harry’s cheek and the light, familiar scent of oranges and peppermint took Harry back to another time. “But I don’t think it would make you any happier than living like a king would make me.” Harry sighed and brushed his fingers through Draco’s hair. “Promise me you won’t do anything daft.”

Draco snorted lightly and pressed his cheek to Harry’s. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not going to start trying to drown myself in the Great Lake over you, Potter.”

“I mean it.” Harry’s words choked him, and he took a shaky breath. “I’ve fucked everything up. I’m sorry.”

Draco’s voice dipped and he held onto Harry. “I know you’re sorry, you stupid arse. My problems were _my_ problems and they were there long before you came along. You’re not the cause of any of it.”

“What will you do now?” Harry let Draco’s lips find his for one last kiss. He responded for a moment before pulling back. He cupped Draco’s face in his hand and murmured quietly but firmly, his voice rough. “No more. We can’t. I can’t.”

“I know.” Draco sighed and slid his hands over Harry’s back, keeping him close. “I always thought we’d be together for the rest of our lives. I thought I’d come back and you’d fall in love with me all over again.”

“Part of me has.” Harry brushed his fingers over the lapel of Draco’s jacket, the velvet soft and rich beneath the pads of his fingertips. “I feel like I’ve loved you for such a long time.”

Draco brushed Harry’s hair back from his face, his fingers trembling. “I don’t know how to do this. Not again.”

“No.” Harry’s hands faltered and he met Draco’s cool, grey eyes. “Neither do I.”


	16. Chapter 16

_“Weep, little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start. Rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left…and it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line – I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?”_

\- Mumford  & Sons, Little Lion Man 

Harry walked through the darkening streets, the cobbles glistening with rain. The rain left droplets of water on his cheeks and left wet strands of hair sticking to his face. He shivered in a blast of cold night air and pulled his jacket more tightly around his body.

Eventually he arrived at the now familiar door to Severus’ house. He knocked and waited until the door opened to reveal Severus.

“Hi,” Harry said uselessly.

Severus’ dark eyes bored into Harry, his lips pursed. Without a word he turned his back to Harry and made his way down the hall without inviting Harry inside, leaving the door open behind him.

Harry’s heart hammered in his chest and he stepped into the house, closing the door softly behind him. He drew a deep, steadying breath and the look on Severus’ face filled his mind. Severus knew. Just as he had always known how to push Harry’s buttons – just as he had known about Harry’s life before Hogwarts, just as he had understood Harry’s grief after the war and just as he instinctually grasped Harry’s needs and darkest desires. Somehow, Severus knew exactly what Harry intended to tell him now.

“It’s rather late for a house call.” Severus poured a Firewhisky and leaned against the kitchen counter, giving Harry the same dark stare. He pointedly didn’t offer Harry a drink or a seat, crossing his legs at the ankle and continuing to watch Harry without a flicker of emotion.

Harry gulped. “I’m sorry about that.” The familiar scent of Severus hung in the air, rich with musky cologne and spices. The room was warm and small; the breakfast table already set for two. Harry’s eyes flickered to the paper which had been separated into sections just as Severus did every morning when Harry stayed overnight. The sports section rested upturned next to the academic commentary on the latest discoveries in the fields of potions and arithmancy. A half-finished crossword sat discarded next to the paper. 

Finally, Harry allowed himself to look at Severus. Just as it had over the last few months, the sight of Severus took Harry’s breath away. He wasn’t handsome or pristinely turned out like Draco. He didn’t have the same visage of wealth and privilege. He was older and careworn and his face showed the lines of his years. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and he wore simple black trousers, a uniform of sorts. Harry knew very few people were welcome to see the man Harry saw now – relaxed in the comfort of his own home. Unbuttoned.

He wanted to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. He wanted to touch Severus and feel the warmth of his skin. He wanted to press his cheek to Severus’ chest and hear the beating of his heart. _Alive_ beat _alive_ beat. He wanted Severus more desperately than ever before, and the thought of never seeing Severus again left Harry shaking.

“I have something to tell you.” Harry tripped over his words and he cleared his throat, trying to stop the trembling in his hands. He wobbled unsteadily in place and locked his knees in an effort to keep himself rigid and upright.

“Indeed.” Severus sipped his whisky. He clearly didn’t plan to make this easy on Harry.

“I…” Harry didn’t know how to get his words out and he shook his head trying to order his thoughts. “Do you know?”

“Come, now.” Severus watched Harry closely. “Is this all the courage I can expect from my brave Gryffindor?”

The possessive note in Severus’ tone made Harry’s heart clench and he shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. Can we at least sit?”

“I am perfectly comfortable.” Severus’ voice was cold and icy. “Continue.”

“Right, okay.” Harry drew a deep breath and his words tumbled out. “I slept with Malfoy. With Draco. Tonight.”

“I see.” Despite his initially cold demeanour, Severus looked as if he had been slapped. He kept his tone level. “And you intend to do so again?”

Harry shook his head and clasped his hands together his whole body now shivering as the rain dried on his body. “No. It’s not going to happen again.”

Severus snorted. “How nice for you both.” His eyes glittered strangely in the dim candlelight in the room. “Tell me, did you let him fuck you? Did you, perhaps, teach him all the things I have shown you? He must have been surprised to find you so…willing. So newly inventive.”

Stung, Harry swallowed and tried to control the ache which threatened to consume him. “I…we didn’t do any of that stuff. I wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Severus sounded so like Draco, with the same scathing tone. “I suppose that is something you reserve for me. Although foolishly I had thought that you were reserving _everything_ for me.”

“I was. I mean, I am.” Harry moved forwards desperately, reaching for Severus. 

“Harry.” Severus held up his hand to stop Harry coming any closer. The way Severus said his name sent a chill through Harry’s body. Gone was Severus’ composure, replaced with a furious anger as he spat out Harry’s name with a curt snap. The pain caused by Harry’s words was etched on his face, his expression twisted with hurt and bitterness.

  


_not an accident_

by Primea

“I didn’t mean to do this to you. I’m sorry.” Harry knew his words were inadequate. He wanted forgiveness more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, but most of all he wanted to see Severus smile again. The magnitude of the hurt caused by his actions began to sink in for the first time, and the depth of Severus’ emotions left Harry shaking. 

“Careless, foolish words.” Severus set down his drink and withdrew his wand. Despite himself, Harry reached for his own and briefly wondered if this was how his life would end – broken and soaking wet in Severus Snape’s kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Harry curled his fingers around his wand and stepped back, ready to respond quickly.

“I’m going to cast _Cruciatus_ , naturally.” Severus gave Harry a scowl and tutted under his breath. “How little you think of me.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve just taken out your wand!” Harry gestured at the wand held outwards and pointed in his direction. 

Severus growled softly and flicked his wand with a murmur. The wet, shivery feeling left Harry and his clothes and hair dried instantly. The power of Severus’ magic almost made Harry come undone but he determined to keep his composure. Another tickling sensation coursed over his body and he moved back with a yelp.

“A cleaning charm.” Severus spoke through gritted teeth. “Unfortunately you neglected to take a shower before you turned up on my doorstep. Considerate of you, to arrive smelling of another man’s cologne. You forget I have spent many years with the Malfoys and I know precisely what kind of expensive scents they favour.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry wrapped his jacket more closely around his body and deflated somewhat, the tension of the moment replaced with overwhelming sadness. “It’s not enough to say that, I know. But I am.”

“You expected to come in here and flatter me with your platitudes, I suppose.” Severus pushed himself back from the kitchen counter and advanced until he stood toe to toe with Harry. He brushed Harry’s hair from his forehead and his fingers lingered in the thick strands of Harry’s hair. Harry choked back a sob at the gentle touch. “Perhaps tonight is the night you plan to tell me you love me?”

“I do.” Harry looked into Severus’ eyes and met his gaze head on. The words fell from his lips for the first time, and he had never meant anything with such strength of conviction. “I do love you.”

“They are only words.” Severus’ fingers slipped from Harry’s hair and he brushed his thumb against Harry’s cheek. “I believe one can communicate such depth of emotion better through their actions.”

“Still, it’s what I feel.” Harry spoke with more confidence than he felt. “I wanted you to know.”

Severus nodded and he dropped his hand from Harry’s face. His proximity unsettled Harry. The need to be truly close to Severus made him dizzy and the possibility of losing someone else he loved made him queasy.

“And Draco?” Severus slipped his hand along Harry’s arm and his gaze left Harry’s face. He took Harry’s hand in his own and turned it over, as if memorising the lines on Harry’s palm. “Do you imagine yourself in love with him too?”

“I…” Harry hesitated and then he breathed out through gritted teeth. “Yes. I think part of me will always love him. But it’s not the same, not anymore.” 

“Albus was often quick to remind me of the power of love.” Severus pressed his hand to Harry’s chest and Harry thought his heart might burst. “He told me once that it was your greatest strength.”

“Yes…” Harry’s knees were close to giving way beneath him and he pressed closer to Severus. Everything about Severus made him feel like a teenager again – unsteady, unsure and vulnerable.

“Yet the flesh is weak.” Severus’ lips brushed against Harry’s ear and his voice dipped into a low hum. “ _You_ are weak.”

Harry shook his head and tried to clear the thoughts racing through his mind. Severus’ words made his body shake and he knew he had to put some distance between them before he lost his ability to articulate himself clearly. He raised his hands to Severus’ chest and pushed as hard as he could.

Severus stumbled backwards and his lips curled into a snarl. “Did you expect me to accept you into my bed? With your skin still _tasting_ of Draco Malfoy. Did you imagine I would enjoy taking pleasure in your body? Am I to be so flattered that you would look at me twice with all your youth and celebrity that I allow you to fuck any young boy that catches your eye?” 

“I don’t know what I thought!” Harry found himself yelling back at Severus in a way he hadn’t for a very long time. “I hoped you might listen. I thought there might be a way to work on things, like adults do. I thought you might not throw this away after all of this time _looking_ …” Harry trailed off and tried to remember how to breathe.

“You foolish, impudent little child!” Severus loomed closer and gripped Harry by the scruff of his shirt, his eyes fiery. “I am a jealous man, Harry. Do you think I will be satisfied to let you go about your business when I know what you’re capable of doing? I expect you think that every time I fuck you I won’t imagine it is _him_ you wish to have in your bed.”

Harry pulled himself free and rounded on Snape, breathing heavily. “If that’s what I wanted, I wouldn’t be here with you now.”

“How you flatter me, Potter.” Severus’ skin paled further and his lips twisted in a cruel smile. “I suppose I should be thankful, now _I_ am the Chosen One. Did you find him somehow lacking, and decided I would be a better match? How fortunate I am to be selected on the whim and fancy of the great Harry Potter.”

“It wasn’t a choice – it wasn’t about _selecting_. It was about realising I’d been looking at things all wrong. I need you, and I think maybe you need me too.”

“You sound surprised.” Severus snorted and he looked at Harry with a sneer. “It must be quite a disappointment to you, to find yourself in this predicament. Imagine your idiocy, falling in love with a man twice your age. The Dark Lord’s right hand man, a man who has killed and watched countless episodes of torture without flinching.” Severus’ eyes glittered again and he gave Harry a queer smile. “A man who has been known to take _pleasure_ in a well aimed _Crucio_.” 

Harry stared at Severus who continued to smile in the same peculiar way. “You only did that because Dumbledore asked you – it was to keep me safe.”

“Your arrogance astonishes me.” Severus looked almost gleeful. “No, Harry. You have read me all wrong. Sometimes I simply did those things because I _liked_ it. I am a man who has always been attracted to power and darkness, after all.” Severus slid his fingers over his belt and gave Harry a loaded look, his voice silky and smooth. “Imagine my very great pleasure when I discovered there was a young hero ready and willing to be corrupted. A wizard whose power I could tame and use to my own advantage. It appears I have done my job well. Your morals are no longer what they were.”

_Does he whip you until you scream? I bet he enjoys that. Oh, I bet he enjoys that more than you realise and for none of the reasons you think._

Severus’ words cut through Harry like a dagger and Draco’s earlier words echoed in his head. He looked at Severus and studied his face as closely as he could. Despite his hurt and anger, Harry decided not to respond on instinct. He fought his impetuous desire to yell and scream and drew on the part of himself that the Sorting Hat had suggested would be perfect for Slytherin House. He pushed his usual impulsive nature aside and took his time to think like a Slytherin – like Severus.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He breathed in the familiar scent of Severus and brushed his fingers over his once wet shirt, now dry from the spell Severus had cast a few moments before. He recalled the moment when he woke shouting to find Severus watching him sleep. He felt the touch of Severus’ fingers soothing him and running down his back until he fell into another fitful sleep, cocooned in Severus’ arms. He remembered the flicker of surprise in Severus’ face when Harry had first kissed him, and the very real half-smile of pleasure which not even the most hardened spy could fake. Harry looked at the papers on the table and brushed his fingers over them. The unfinished crossword puzzle had a note next to a question about Quidditch written in Severus’ neat script.

_Ask Harry._

The once sparse table had a jar of Harry’s favourite damson jam in the centre. A lone egg cup sat in the place Harry usually took, which meant Severus had planned to rise early and make boiled eggs with soldiers – Harry’s favourite. Without looking at Severus, Harry took his time to take in the room which was otherwise bare and cold in contrast to the signs of life and contentment which littered the small wooden table. The aching realisation that Severus had been expecting Harry to come to see him and put things to rights, dawned on Harry. He wondered how long Severus had been waiting up for him.

Harry looked up and met Severus’ steady gaze head on and for the first time all evening his voice didn’t tremble or falter. “You’re a liar. This wasn’t about vengeance or corruption. Besides, I’m about as corruptible as McGonagall – no matter what I’ve done tonight. You know that just as well as I do. You always have.”

Severus eyed Harry. “Then what do you imagine it was about?”

“Taking a chance.” Harry looked from the table back to Severus. “Taking a chance on me, and I’ve failed you. For that, I’m sorry.”

“I would like you to explain why.” Severus no longer seemed angry. His rage had lessened and now he simply looked defeated. The sight broke Harry’s heart.

Harry took his time before speaking and listened to his heart. A wave of relief and peace washed over him as his mind cleared. The ache in his heart eased, as emotions clouded by bittersweet memories became less powerful – less intrusive. Harry let go of the young boy, still burned and bloodied from battle. He squared his shoulders, ready to fight again. With burgeoning strength, Harry cleared his mind of the flashes of recollection and the powerful images of the past which so muddied his thinking.

When he finally spoke, he did so softly and with perfect clarity. “I’m not going to try to build my future on memories anymore.” Harry took a deep breath, and repeated his earlier words. “I love you. Not because of the war, and not even because you helped keep me alive. Not because I still remember how you used to hold your quill, and definitely not because I grieved for you and spent too much time sitting in your rooms waiting for your portrait to appear.”

“No?” Severus’ voice dipped low and his lips pursed, his gaze steady.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “It’s because even though I have no clue where I’ll be in ten years’ time, I can picture you being there too. We want the same things, or at least I think we do. I’ve had to do a lot of guesswork about that on my way here – you’re not exactly easy to read.” Harry’s voice shook and he clasped his hands together to avoid reaching out for Severus. “You’re my future, or at least you were,” Harry finished miserably.

“Ten years’ time?” Severus snorted. “At this rate I’ll be dead by then.” 

With a scowl, Severus picked up his glass of whisky and took a deep drink. When he placed it back on the kitchen surface with a clatter, Harry noticed his hands were trembling. Severus turned his back to Harry and hunched his shoulders as he drew a deep, shuddering breath. The heat of the past few moments faded and another wave of sadness washed over Harry.

“I didn’t expect you to forgive me.” The realisation that Severus would be unlikely to do so felt like a punch to Harry’s gut and it was all he could do not to break down.

“No, I imagine not.” Severus kept his back to Harry and finally turned, his expression unreadable. “There one more thing I require from you.”

A feeling of trepidation settled over Harry. “I’ll give you whatever you need, if I can.”

Severus nodded. “I trust that despite your newfound reticence to dwell on memories, you still recall our private lessons?”

Realisation dawned, and Harry nodded slowly. “Legilimency. You want to see what happened?”

“Every last moment,” Severus confirmed. He pointed his wand at Harry. “I trust you will not resist me.”

Before Harry could object and point out what a terrible idea it was, Severus pushed into his mind. All of a sudden, Harry was back in Hogwarts. He and Severus shouted at one another and it was _Snape_ and _Potter_ , full of anger and venom. He couldn’t stop the intrusion as Severus found his most intimate memories, rifling through them and discarding them at will. 

Severus moved closer to Harry and he murmured in Harry’s ear, his voice warm and seductive. “Don’t fight me. Don’t try to fight me.”

With a gulp, Harry nodded and relaxed. He gave up his most treasured memories and every moment of shame and pain he had ever felt. He allowed Severus to see his heart and to understand how each day they had spent together had impacted Harry. Finally, they came to the moment Harry had been dreading. Severus settled his fingers on Harry’s arm and they tightened when Draco became part of the rush of memories.

Harry winced at the ease with which he succumbed to the first teasing kisses, and wondered where the hell all of his fight and strength of character had been. His eyes filled with tears as he recalled the murmurs of passion in the darkness of the room, and the eager way his hands scrabbled at Draco’s back and urged him closer with pleas of _harder_ and _more_. 

By the time Draco’s broken expression flashed into his mind, hot tears ran down Harry’s cheeks. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and a sniffle. Severus eased out of Harry’s mind and he stepped back. His face was white, and his lips formed a thin line.

“It appears it is not just me you have hurt with your actions.”

Harry wiped his eyes and nodded, heat rising from his neck to the tips of his ears. “What…what do you want me to do now?” Harry looked at Severus, desperate to be wrapped in his arms once again.

“I think I would like you to leave.” 

Harry’s world crumbled around him. It took all of his strength not to fall to the floor, and he determined that however much he wanted to resolve this he would respect Severus’ wishes. “And tomorrow?”

“Time, Harry. I require _time_.” Severus drew a shaky breath and his knuckles whitened as they gripped his wand more tightly. “There is nothing more to be said tonight and if you stay I may not be responsible for my actions.”

Harry swallowed, and Severus turned his back to Harry.

His heart breaking, Harry made his way out of the warmth and back into the cold air and damp of the autumn night.


	17. Chapter 17

_“The storms are raging on the rolling sea, and on the highway of regret. The winds of change are blowing wild and free, you ain't seen nothing like me yet. I could make you happy, make your dreams come true, nothing that I wouldn't do. Go to the ends of the Earth for you, to make you feel my love”_

\- Adele, Make You Feel My Love 

Losing Severus was as hard as the loss of Draco had ever been, but Harry handled it quite differently.

He had little desire to go out clubbing, in a desperate attempt to find someone who looked vaguely like Severus. Instead, he focused on making his home as bright as it could be. He accepted with a heavy heart that his time there would be spent alone, and he wanted it make it a place he could enjoy being by himself. 

Every morning he pulled himself out of bed, and went through the motions. He showered and splashed cold water on his face. One, splash. Two, splash. Breathe, splash. He cleaned the mirrors until they gleamed. He worked on developing a clever spell which silenced the Black family portraits permanently. He rolled up his sleeves and cleaned Grimmauld Place from top to bottom. He scrubbed the sink, polished the silverware until it shone and used magic worthy of a house-elf to leave the fireplace and chimney spotless.

The nights were the hardest, but Harry did everything he could to avoid falling into old traps. He resisted the urge to drink hot whisky and cloves and kept himself busy trying out new recipes, or reading voluminous texts on defending himself and others against the Dark Arts. He kept the remainder of the whisky for those moments when his darkest nightmares woke him with a shout. He took his time to heat it with shaking hands, breathing in the familiar scent of spices and cloves.

On those occasions when he thought he might buckle, Harry quickly contacted Ron or Hermione.

“Ice cream. Four different flavours. Three, actually. The chocolate’s mine.”

Hermione always brought food. Ice cream and chocolate sprinkles, a basket of fruit and homemade lasagne which could be heated with magic. As well as food, Hermione always left a book behind. She urged Harry to lose himself in the pages whenever he needed a distraction.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to moon over Snape with you. He’s been a right arse today, Shacklebolt’s going up the wall.”

Ron brought jokes, a total lack of interest in anything to do with Harry’s love life, Ministry gossip and beers.

When he was alone, Harry painted. He decorated slowly until every room was bright and light. The fresh paint making the rooms look bigger and the ceilings taller. The rooms felt larger and the sunshine no longer showed up the dust or imperfections. He gave his expensive antique furniture to charity and replaced it all with soft, squidgy sofas with lots of cushions. 

After finishing for the day, Harry lit the fire and sat on his new sofa. He let the soothing light from the flames warm the room, the flickering and crackling lulling him into toasty sleepiness. As his eyes started to close, he usually woke just enough to haul himself to bed. He tucked himself in and hoped his quiet contemplation had relaxed him sufficiently to sleep through until morning.

On a Thursday evening towards the end of the summer, Harry finished the final lick of paint. Exhausted, but accomplished, Harry packed away his paint covered shirt and old, ripped jeans. He put away his brushes and large pots of airy, pastel colours. Finally, when the house had been restored to a state of normality, he settled in front of the fire. With a yawn, he closed his eyes and pulled his feet up onto the sofa.

It was midnight when he woke with a shiver. The fire had gone out and the house was dark. Harry reached for his wand and cast a quick _Lumos_ , hugging his blanket for warmth.

His blanket, which had been on the foot of his bed a few hours before. His blanket which had been nowhere near the sofa, but which now gave him some much needed additional warmth. Harry swallowed and brushed his fingers over the soft material. He definitely hadn’t gone to sleep with it tucked gently around his shoulders, and the thought of his late night guest tucking him up to keep him warm made his chest constrict.

Perhaps he was still half asleep, Harry wondered as he made his way to bed. 

When he finally settled, he pressed his cheek to the cool sheets and dreamed about robes with lots of buttons, empty picture frames and hot whisky with cloves.

“You’re not having much luck with these Death Eaters of yours.” Ron winced as Hermione elbowed him in the side. “I mean, perhaps you could try someone who doesn’t enjoy murdering people for a change. It might help.”

“It might _help_?” Harry stared at Ron. “Does everybody think I’ve got some kind of…thing…for Death Eaters?”

“Of course not, Harry,” Hermione said at the same time Ron said, “Maybe.”

“I hope you two know better than that at least.” Harry glared at Ron when he looked uncertain. “I’m going to Bat-Bogey Hex you if you don’t stop looking at me like that.”

“Calm down, mate.” Ron held up his hand with a laugh and gestured for another pint. “I’m just suggesting you might be better with someone a bit less Slytherin next time.”

“You’ve heard my story a hundred times.” Gloomily, Harry picked at his beer mat. “The only person that fucked up was me. I was the one shagging someone else. Would you forgive Hermione if she did that to you?”

Ron shook his head and glanced at Hermione, clearly not enjoying being put on the spot as she arched an eyebrow at him. “Hermione would never do that.”

“Cheers.” Harry tipped his drink at Ron with a roll of his eyes. “Because she’s not a thoughtless prat like me, you mean.”

“No, because I’m not Snape.” Ron grinned and kissed Hermione quickly on the cheek. He patted Harry’s hand awkwardly. “I’m joking. You know I’m joking.”

“It’s hilarious, Ron. Good one. Let’s tell a few more jokes about my love life falling to pieces.” Harry pulled a face and downed a good third of his pint. “Let’s get pissed.”

“Perhaps not just yet.” Hermione’s eyes flickered to the door and despite himself Harry turned to look over his shoulder.

“He _never_ drinks here.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Harry furrowed his brow as Malfoy wandered into the pub. He looked around disdainfully and brushed his jacket as if he expected to catch something from the clientele. As always, he looked good enough to eat and Harry pushed that thought to one side. 

“Do you think he’s going to come over?” Hermione looked worried. “I think you should be careful, Harry. With things as they are with you and Severus…”

“I haven’t heard from Severus in weeks. I haven’t a clue how things are.” Harry sighed. “Still, it doesn’t change things. I’m still going to try to-”

“Evening, Potter.” 

Harry tried to resist breathing in the familiar scent of Draco’s cologne which still made his body heat, even now. He looked up and gave Draco a weak smile. “Malfoy. I haven’t seen you here…ever.”

“I’m meeting somebody. This is apparently the kind of establishment they frequent.” Draco looked disgruntled. “Nevertheless, I’m fairly certain he didn’t expect _you_ to be here.” Draco brushed his fingers against Harry’s shoulder. “You look well.”

“Thanks, I feel like shit.” Harry shook himself from his glum mood and tried to remind himself that absolutely none of this was Draco’s fault. “You too. How’ve you been?”

“Bored.” Draco wrinkled his nose. He looked around quickly as the door opened again letting in a waft of cool air. “It appears I’m required elsewhere. If you’re still here by the time I’ve finished perhaps you could come back to mine for a nightcap?” Draco looked the picture of innocence. “As _friends_ of course.”

“I don’t think it’s a great idea. Not after…” Harry winced.

“Not after our night of passion” Draco said, without missing a beat.

“I mean I don’t think I’m going to be very good at being your _friend_ at the moment,” Harry muttered, ignoring the look he was getting from Hermione. 

“The offer’s open if you change your mind.” 

Draco let his fingers brush the nape of Harry’s neck and it took all of Harry’s strength to pull away from him, with a low groan. “I don’t think I will, thanks all the same.”

“How predictable that I would find you at this table when there is so much room _elsewhere_ , Draco.” 

Harry looked up with a gulp and found himself being eyed by a suspicious, angry looking Severus. “Severus…”

“Oh bloody hell, they’re all out tonight,” Ron muttered.

“Good evening, Potter.” Severus tipped his head towards a table in a dark corner of the pub. “Draco. I suggest we leave Potter to it.”

“ _Fine_.” With a huff, Draco gave Harry one last wink and led the way to the small table where he and Severus settled together.

“What in the name of Merlin is that all about?” Horrified, Harry looked over at the table where Severus and Draco were clearly arguing about something.

“Perhaps they’re comparing notes,” Ron offered. He grinned when Harry shot him a look. “Shall I stop making jokes at your expense?”

“Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind.” Harry’s gaze lingered on Draco briefly, but it was Severus that had set his heartrate quickening. He took in the dark, Muggle clothes which Severus wore so very well and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“You look a little…overheated,” Hermione noted.

Harry glared at her and nodded his head towards Draco and Severus. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I’m not sure that’s a bad sign.” Hermione tapped her finger against her lip with a small smile. “I have a feeling I know exactly what Severus is up to.”

“Would you like to tell us, then?” Harry huffed and drained the last of his pint.

“Not yet. If I’m right, I think you’ll find out soon enough.” Hermione stood and gathered her things. “If you’re planning to get drunk I still think we should do it elsewhere.”

Harry pulled on his jacket and stood, giving Severus one last glance. Their eyes met briefly and a spark of electricity heated Harry’s body. He tugged his gaze away and made for the door without looking back.

“I think that’s a very good idea.”

Harry woke the next day with a groan and pulled his pillow over his head. With a weak flick of his wand he mumbled, “ _Accio_ Hangover Potion.” A small phial dropped into Harry’s hand and he drank the potion quickly.

The throbbing in his head finally ceased, and with a sigh of relief he showered and got ready for the day. The peculiar image of Severus and Draco sharing a drink together seemed to have etched itself on Harry’s brain. He couldn’t stop wondering what on Earth had prompted them to meet. Part of him felt it must involve him somehow, but Draco and Severus had a history of their own – a past that he, Harry, had not been part of. 

When a familiar and irritated looking owl landed on Harry’s desk later that day, he was quick to unravel the parchment.

_Potter,_

_If you have time this evening, I suggest we meet at my local pub. There are matters I wish to discuss with you._

_Yours,_

_S.S._

Harry read the letter again, hoping to find some hidden meaning. It was typical of Severus to give absolutely nothing away. 

After making his lunch Harry went back to his desk to read the letter one more time. He pulled a face at his sandwich and left it discarded as he looked up at the cuckoo clock which seemed to be ticking past the minutes more slowly than ever.

“Five hours to go,” Harry muttered.

He settled back in his chair and watched the clock, willing it to move more quickly.

Harry took his time getting ready for his evening with Severus. He showered twice and tried to tame his hair as best he could, eventually admitting defeat and leaving it just as shaggy as it always looked. He carefully selected a dark green jumper which Severus had once commented on, and a pair of black wool trousers. 

He pulled on some black boots and stuck out his tongue at himself in the mirror. “You’re going to have to do.”

He found a quiet spot where nobody would notice him Apparate, and wandered to the door of the small local pub. He smiled as he remembered the evenings with Severus before everything had gone to pot, and sighed with contentment when he opened the door to the comforting smell of fish and chips and real ale.

“A pint of lager, please.”

“Make that two.” 

Harry resisted the urge to lean back into Severus when he felt his warm, solid presence behind him. He turned and gave Severus a quick smile. “These are on me.”

“Yes.” Snape arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “I should think so.” His hand brushed the small of Harry’s back. Harry couldn’t be sure, but he thought the gentle touch lingered for longer than it probably should. There really was no need to stand quite so close to someone at a bar, after all. The touch of Severus’ fingers made Harry’s skin tingle and warm, despite his thick jumper providing an unwelcome barrier.

Harry’s cheeks heated and he paid the barman, before taking their pints to a small table where they wouldn’t be disturbed. “Cheers.”

Severus lifted his glass and took a sip of his pint. “You have been keeping well, I trust?”

“Sort of.” Harry shrugged and tried to resist downing his pint out of sheer nerves. “It’s been pretty miserable at times. I’ve done a lot of cleaning.”

“Cleaning?” Severus looked amused. 

“Grimmauld Place looks like a new house.” Harry nodded, and recounted his decorating tales. When he finished, he gave Severus a questioning look. “You probably know all this, anyway. Did you come and see me last week?”

Harry scrutinised Severus carefully, but his expression gave nothing away.

“I wouldn’t wish to impose uninvited.” Severus gave Harry a faint smile.

“You’re always invited. Just for the record.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Without expanding further, Severus toyed with a dog-eared placemat. “I asked you to meet with me because I have a message for you. From Draco.”

Harry nearly choked on his ale, and he stared at Severus. “You came here to give me a message from _Malfoy_? Since when did you become his favourite owl?”

Severus rolled his eyes and clearly chose not to dignify Harry’s query with a response. “I am not sure why you are so surprised. You’re aware that Draco and I met the other evening.”

“All too aware, thanks.” Harry frowned, the image of Draco and Severus arguing at the small table in the pub etched on his brain. “I’ve got no idea why,”

“Haven’t you?” Severus tapped his finger against his lips and contemplated Harry.

Harry shook his head in response. “None at all. I don’t suppose you’re going to explain either.”

“Perhaps, in time.” Severus paused. “Mr Malfoy wished for you to know he intends to leave, imminently. He plans to travel the world and live like a king. He believed you would understand.”

A wave of sadness washed over Harry. “Yeah, I understand.”

“You are invited to accompany him. If you wish. He will be travelling by Portkey, and I believe he intends to depart tomorrow at noon.”

Harry’s stomach turned and he stared at Severus, his mouth dry. “You came here to tell me to go off travelling with Draco?”

Severus shook his head. “I did no such thing. I came here to allow you to make a decision. Rationally. Now that a little time has passed and you have had sufficient opportunity to give thought to your…position.”

Harry let out a snort of laughter. “This isn’t a potions experiment, Severus. This kind of thing isn’t rational. It’s all about emotion and instinct.” He gave Severus a grin. “Like duelling.”

“I believe I described duelling as being down to _skill_ and instinct. It has little to do with emotions.” Severus paused, his eyes boring into Harry. “They have a tendency to expose one’s vulnerabilities.”

“I’d prefer to have vulnerabilities than think about everything _rationally_ ,” Harry countered. “I suppose you still see emotions as a weakness?”

Severus gave a noncommittal grunt. “That is neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is you have a decision to make once again, and this time you may consider your options without the heat of the moment clouding your judgment.” He watched Harry closely. “I do not intend to invite you home with me this evening. I do not think that would help you to decide things…rationally.”

“And you call me arrogant,” Harry muttered. He shrugged. “You can tell me you’re not going to invite me home with you on _any_ evening ever again if you like. I’m not going travelling anywhere. I’m going back to Hogwarts in September. I signed my contract yesterday.”

“Contracts can be broken. Minerva would be supportive and there are others who would be delighted to take your place.” Severus took a sip of his lager and Harry watched as he licked his lips, wanting to reach out brush his thumb against them. 

“But I don’t want to give this up.” Harry leaned forward, and dipped his voice. “This is about me. This has nothing to do with you or with Malfoy. I have to find something that suits me long term, and this is it.” Harry picked at a splinter on the table and swallowed. “I have to start building a future. With or without you.”

“I see.” Severus watched Harry closely, and for a fleeting moment his expression softened. The moment passed, and his implacable countenance returned. “There was one further message that Draco requested I communicate.”

“Oh?” Harry furrowed his brow and wondered why Severus was being so calm about all of this.

“He said if you want to make jam with him instead, you wouldn’t have to get the Portkey because,” Severus raised his eyes heavenward, “money is no object.” Severus pursed his lips. “I sincerely hope _making jam_ is not a euphemism. If it is, I suggest you think of a better one than that.”

Harry laughed despite himself and shook his head. “No, it’s not a euphemism.” Memories of Draco filled Harry’s senses and he closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing thickly.

_I could make jam._

_I feel like I’ve been in love with you for such a long time._

Draco’s face smiled back at him, happy and delighted. He triumphantly held the Snitch aloft and crowed about beating Harry, as the moon and the stars shone down on them both. Harry brushed his hand to his neck where Draco had wrapped his Slytherin scarf after their first trip to Hogsmeade, and he could almost taste the hot chocolate kisses on his lips. His heart ached for the loss of Draco and quickened at the memory of Draco’s hands on his body and the heated whispers from a time long ago. Every nerve in his body tingled with the memory of Draco’s touch, and the recollection of those first few times when Draco showed surprising patience and confidence. Eventually, the nights under the stars of the midnight sky slipped away and the images of Hogwarts grounds faded. They were replaced instead by the cool cotton sheets at Grimmauld Place. The acute sense of guilt and pain crashed over Harry once again – he could still feel the rich velvet of Draco’s jacket against his cheek, and he could taste the final, salt water kisses.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, blinking into the present and the visions of Draco faded. He wished, not for the first time, that it didn’t have to hurt quite so much.

Severus watched Harry with a queer expression on his face. The whites of his knuckles as he clutched the arm of his chair gave him away, and Harry longed to be able to reach for him and pull him close.

Instead, Severus spoke in a voice that was barely level. “If you require more time you have sixteen hours to consider your options.” 

“I don’t need sixteen hours.” Harry shook his head and looked steadily at Severus. “I won’t be going tomorrow, unless it’s to say goodbye.”

“In that case I should pass on the final part of Draco’s message.” Severus relaxed his grip on the arm of his chair, and his voice cooled once more. “No more goodbyes.”

Harry swallowed. “And he didn’t say when he’d be back?”

“He did not.” Severus finished his pint and settled back in his chair. He pressed his fingers together and nodded to Harry’s lager. “Would you care for another? I’m afraid I have other business to attend to, but I am happy to purchase another drink for you if you wish to stay.”

Harry deflated when Severus made it clear that he intended to leave imminently. He berated himself for his showers and time spent choosing clothes when it was quite clear Severus had no interest in meeting Harry for any reason other than to act as some kind of bizarre go-between for Malfoy.

“I’m not keen on drinking on my own.” Harry softened his words with a small smile, forcing himself to sound more upbeat. “Thanks, though.”

“You’re welcome.” Severus stood. “I had my own contract through today.”

“Contract?” Harry looked at Severus with confusion.

“Yes. You are not the only one who has been invited back to Hogwarts.” Severus inclined his head to Harry. “I will see you in three weeks, Professor Potter.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s sombre mood lifted and a broad smile stretched across his face as he looked at Severus. “You will.”


	18. Chapter 18

_“Howling ghosts – they reappear, in mountains that are stacked with fear, but you're a king and I'm a lionheart…and as the world comes to an end I'll be here to hold your hand, ‘cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart”_

\- Monsters and Men, King and Lionheart 

As the autumn term approached, Harry quickly settled into his new rooms at Hogwarts. McGonagall had housed him high up in the castle, with views over the vast grounds. He took his time to wander through the winding corridors, and familiarised himself with his settings once more.

It didn’t escape Harry’s notice than Severus was nowhere to be seen. 

“Severus does not typically arrive with the rest of the staff,” McGonagall reassured Harry. “You can rest assured he will be here before the students arrive. I recently had the pleasure of a lengthy owl demanding,” she cleared her throat, “ _requesting_ that I ensure the potions stores are well stocked.”

“So he definitely hasn’t changed his mind?” The wait to see Severus again had been far too long, with the hours and days crawling by. 

“No, Harry.” McGonagall gave Harry a knowing smile. “He has not changed his mind.”

“I’m not at all surprised he’s not here.” Neville pulled a face. “I expect he likes to swoop in like a bat and terrify the first years.” His face took on a determined look, and he set his lips in a firm line. “At least I can take house points now, too. That’ll show him.”

“Mr Longbottom, I have made it abundantly clear that staff cannot take points from one another.” McGonagall pursed her lips and stood quickly. “A rule I should clarify with Severus before he arrives. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

McGonagall left the staffroom, and Harry reached for the coffee pot. “Another?”

“Yeah.” Neville grinned. “Good to have you back, Harry.”

Warmth spread through Harry’s body and he met Neville’s smile with one of his own. “Good to be back.”

The day before the arrival of the Hogwarts Express, Harry ventured into the Great Hall for breakfast. His cheeks warmed and a ball of nervous excitement formed in his stomach, when he found Severus scowling into his coffee. 

“Morning, Severus.”

Severus didn’t look up from his coffee and responded with a grunt. When Harry hesitated, he pulled back the chair next to him with a deliberate scrape. “Do sit down, Potter.”

Harry took the proffered chair and reached for the coffee. His arm brushed with Severus’ and he resisted the urge to lean in and kiss him on the cheek. He missed Severus so fucking much, it took his breath away. Even when Severus was being a grumpy bastard, Harry missed him. It was in those moments he used to press close to Severus and tease a smile from him. Harry grinned at the memory of lazy morning kisses, over coffee, toast and jam and wondered if eating breakfast together made Severus want to get those mornings back.

“Pass the sugar, then.” Harry held out his hand, and Severus looked very much as if he would like to pour the sugar over Harry’s head. “Are we talking this morning or aren’t we?”

Severus gritted his teeth. “Tomorrow there will be _students_ here. I have yet to finish a particularly critical element of my research, and I will hardly have time to conclude my findings with detentions to undertake.” He scowled again, clearly displeased by the inconvenience of having students to teach.

Harry laughed, and added a generous amount of jam to his toast. He bit into it with a _crunch_ and raised his eyebrows at Severus. “Aren’t Professors supposed to like children? Besides, you could always try giving fewer detentions.”

“How much you have to learn.” Severus heaved a sigh. Finally, he met Harry’s gaze and moved his hand towards Harry.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat and he sat very, very still. He felt rather like he was bowing to a Hippogriff – no sudden movements, don’t scare him off. Severus brushed his thumb over the corner of Harry’s mouth, his touch lingering.

“Severus?” Harry’s voice sounded breathy and he cleared his throat in an effort to regulate his speech once more.

“Jam.” Severus lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked the pad of it briefly. 

Harry breathed out in a rush and turned back to his toast, trying to still the tremble in his hands. “Thanks.”

That evening, Harry made his way to the dungeons. He knocked on the door to Severus’ rooms, and waited for a response.

“Enter.”

With a snort at Severus sounding so grumpy, Harry pushed open the door and stepped inside. Where the rooms had once been covered with dust and broken bottles of potions ingredients, they were now warm and inviting. The old sofa had – thankfully – been replaced. A large mahogany desk at the end of the room was covered with parchment and musty volumes which teetered alarmingly on the edge of the crowded surface. The room smelled pleasingly of ink, and the familiar spicy scent of Severus.

Harry closed the door behind him and met Severus’ unreadable gaze. “Do you have any time tonight? It might be too busy when term starts.”

“Too busy for what, exactly?” Severus arched an eyebrow at Harry, but placed his quill back in the ink pot. He stood and gestured to the sofa. “You might as well take a seat.”

“Thanks ever so.” Harry rolled his eyes at the lukewarm welcome, and sat. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. He rubbed the clammy palms of his hands on his jeans, and folded them in his lap. After a moment’s consideration, he untwined them and placed them on the cushions. His movements seemed awkward and ungainly, and he wondered when he had forgotten how to just _relax_.

 _Relax_.

Harry heard the deep, warm instruction from what felt like a lifetime ago. Images of Severus ran through his mind, and he licked his lips as his mouth went suddenly dry.

“Stop that.” Severus settled next to Harry, his voice tight.

“Stop what?” Harry turned to Severus, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m just trying to get comfortable.”

“I know exactly what you’re doing.” Severus pressed his lips into a thin line. He drummed his fingers on his knee, and Harry was reminded of the angry exchange between them in the Ministry. A carriage clock on the hearth and the light _tap, tap_ of Severus’ fingers mingled with their steady breathing. Harry shifted again, and Severus growled. “You are _infuriating_ , Potter.”

“I am?” Harry glared at Severus. “I’m just sitting here quietly, not saying a word. If anyone’s infuriating, it’s you.”

“How did you reach that conclusion?” Severus stared down his nose at Harry and his eyebrows knitted together in a scowl. “You are the one who presumes to come barging into my quarters in the middle of the night. _You_ are the one making crude attempts to goad me into something we might both live to regret.”

“How the fuck am I trying to goad you into anything?” Harry stared at Severus. “I’m just _sitting_ , and besides it’s not even nine. Middle of the night, my arse.”

“You have dispensed with your robes already, I see.” Severus flicked his gaze over Harry, his eyes dark. 

“You too,” Harry noted. Severus was just as Harry had seen him so many times before – in a partially unbuttoned white shirt and plain black trousers. His long legs stretched out towards the fire, and he looked as good to Harry as ever.

“I suppose you are here because you wish to talk?” Severus seemed to be struggling with something. His knuckles whitened as he clenched his hands into fists. His cheek twitched as he looked angrily into the fire. The flames sent shadows flickering over his face. “I suggest you get on with it.”

Harry raked a hand through his hair and nodded. He opened his mouth to speak when Severus gripped the scruff of Harry’s shirt with a growl.

“Severus?” Harry found himself effectively pulled into the unexpectedly intimate position of straddling Severus’ lap. 

Severus clutched Harry’s shirt again, and yanked. His other hand settled on the base of Harry’s spine, and he pulled him closer. “I trust I have not misread the signs?” 

“What bloody _signs_?” Harry’s breathing hitched and he slid his hands into Severus’ hair. “But no, you haven’t.”

Severus responded with a low growl, and pulled Harry into a fierce kiss. His movements were firm and assured, his kiss rough and biting. He kissed as if he wanted to devour Harry, and his hand moved over Harry’s thigh with a hard squeeze. His arm settled securely around Harry’s waist and held him in place. Harry lost himself in the demanding kisses and groaned against Severus’ lips when he felt Severus’ body respond beneath him. It took every last remaining ounce of his strength to break this kiss, his breathing rough and ragged. 

“Wait – Severus, wait!”

With a groan, Severus closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, the fire in his gaze took Harry’s breath away. “Please tell me you don’t wish to _talk_ , Potter. I can assure you, I could quite happily spend the rest of the evening doing whatever we can to avoid talking.”

Harry grinned at that, the thought filling him with warmth. “I’ve just got one question.”

“Very well.” Severus rolled his eyes.

Harry swallowed. “It’s a bit difficult to tell what you’re thinking sometimes. I don’t want to do this if you’re angry. I don’t think I could stand it.”

Severus’ expression cleared and he arched an eyebrow at Harry. “You would prefer me to make love to you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear?”

“Bloody hell, no.” Harry cringed at the thought of Severus attempting romance. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Severus placed his hands on Harry’s waist and pulled him close. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to Harry’s ear, his voice low and silky. “I am no longer angry. I simply intend to fuck you with precisely the kind of intensity you might expect from me after spending too long apart from you. I suggest that now it is you, perhaps, who must take a chance on me.”

Harry shivered at the promise in Severus’ words. He tipped his head to kiss Severus. “Well don’t let me stop you.”

Harry pressed against Severus in his small but cosy private bedroom. Despite the size of the room, the bed was comfortably big enough for two. Every inch of Harry’s skin was sensitised to the slow slide of Severus’ fingers over his body. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.” The words left Harry’s mouth as Severus kissed his way down Harry’s torso. The pressure of Severus’ lips and tongue made Harry arch off the bed a little, his body willing and desperately eager for Severus.

“I am aware.” Severus paused in his ministrations and parted Harry’s legs with firm hands. He traced slick fingers over Harry and moved upwards, brushing his lips to Harry’s neck. “However, if you are capable of worrying and uttering coherent sentences I am clearly doing something wrong.”

“You’re definitely not doing anything wrong.” Harry groaned when Severus worked his fingers inside him. The sensation of Severus taking him with rough, urgent purpose made Harry’s head spin. While familiar, the touches were somehow different. Every murmur from Severus and every stroke of his hand or flick of his tongue seemed to promise a future. He drew in a sharp breath when Severus crooked his fingers inside him, and clenched his hands around the sheets. “Please…fuck, I want you so much.”

“You are still _talking_.” With a disgruntled huff, Severus slipped his fingers from Harry and moved over him. The blunt, wide head of his cock pressed firmly against Harry’s entrance. When Severus thrust into him, the ability to speak finally left Harry and he arched underneath Severus with a shout.

Severus’ face contorted, caught between pleasure and something else – something indecipherable – as he met Harry’s eyes. He stilled before moving, brushing Harry’s hair from his forehead with a soft touch, his fingers trembling. When he began to move, his expression took on a look of such urgency and desire, it made Harry’s heart thump harder in his chest. The warmth in Severus’ gaze spread through every vein in Harry’s body, and made his heart beat wildly. His body suffused with pleasure as each stroke of Severus’ cock inside his body made Harry whimper.

When Severus wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed him firmly, his breathing was shallow. 

Harry kissed Severus back, and knew with absolute conviction what Severus’ kiss meant.

_I missed you._

_I love you._

_I forgive you._  
 


	19. Epilogue

_“In that land there's a winter, in that winter's a day, in that day there's a moment when it all goes your way. And you know it's a lion's heart that will tumble and tear apart, when he's coming down the hills for you…”_

\- The Tallest Man on Earth, A Lion's Heart 

A strange owl landed on the breakfast table which Harry had carefully set, knocking over an egg cup and threatening to topple the jug of orange juice onto the floor.

“Bloody hell, you’re as bad as Pig.” Harry took the note from the owl’s talons and fed it a morsel of hot toast to appease it as it ruffled its feathers and let out an aggravated caw. The owl flew off, and with order restored Harry settled at the table.

He opened the parchment. It was an unfamiliar texture and didn’t look like anything typically stocked in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. A picture fell out of the roll of parchment and Harry turned it over to study it more carefully. An unexpected wave of sadness made his heart clench and he swallowed thickly as he took in the detail of the picture.

A very familiar wizard with a Gryffindor scarf wrapped tightly around his neck waved at Harry from the foot of a tall building. There was a note with the picture, written on a cardboard luggage tag.

_Next stop, Paris. Wish you were here, Potter._

_D.M._

Harry folded the parchment carefully and left it on the table, making no effort to hide it away.

“You have an owl?” 

Harry looked up to see Severus watching him from the doorway. He nodded and met his gaze head on. “Yes. Just a note from an old friend.”

“I see.” Severus sat at the table and poured his coffee. He set the pot down with a little more force than was strictly necessary, and took a careful sip before opening the paper. “I’ve been wondering of late if you might have developed a sudden desire to see something of the world.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Severus asking cryptic questions from behind the _Daily Prophet_. “Not really, no. Besides, I’d hardly have time to go travelling. Term starts in a fortnight.”

Severus rustled his paper and Harry thought he detected a low growl. “That’s as may be, but I am sure Hogwarts would not want to hold you back, should you wish to pursue your dreams.”

Harry grinned. “ _Hogwarts_ doesn’t hold me back.” He moved to sit next to Severus and leant against him. “Besides, I’m already pursuing my dreams.”

Severus lowered the paper and handed Harry the crossword. “Three down. Something to do with that infernal sport you enjoy so much.”

“That’s an easy one.” 

Harry scribbled down the answer and Severus responded by running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“Harry…” Severus’ voice sounded unusually rough and unsteady.

Harry raised his eyes from the crossword and met Severus’ gaze. His eyes were dark and full of emotion, and a wave of uncertainty crossed over his features. His words seemed to catch in his throat before they could be fully articulated, and Harry’s heart constricted at the sight. He leaned forward and kissed Severus. 

“I hope you know I love you.” Harry pulled back so he could see Severus properly, his heart swelling. “And that I’m happier now than I’ve ever been.”

Severus’ peculiar expression cleared, and he snorted softly.

“Sentimental Gryffindor. I was merely going to ask if you could pass the jam.”

With a grin, Harry did just that.

_~Fin~_


	20. A Lion's Heart:  Fanmix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music was a huge inspiration for this story, and each chapter has a different song to accompany it. The concept was born out of Regina Spektor's 'Samson', which became Draco's song for this endeavour. I hope you get enjoyment listening to the collection. Harry's song was 'Hero' by Family of the Year, and the song 'A Lion's Heart' by The Tallest Man on Earth gives the fic its title. Snape's song was 'Unsuffer Me' by Lucinda Williams, with credit to Perverse Idyll for pointing me towards that song.
> 
> Thank you to the members and watches at Snape_Potter who helped me find some songs for the Snarry chapters.

[INSERT IMAGE]

  
  
  
  
[LINK TO PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-4lU5ljBMdzIZLJucl4n_AzwfLRioQz9)

**1.** **Family of the Year**  /  _Hero_  
  
I'm a kid like everyone else, so let me go. I don't wanna be your hero. I don't wanna be a big man, I just wanna fight like everyone else  
  
 **2\. Cage the Elephant**  /  _Cigarette Daydreams_  
  
Funny how it seems like yesterday, as I recall you were looking out of place…I followed you into the hall. Cigarette daydream, you were only seventeen, so sweet with a mean streak, nearly brought me to my knees  
  
 **3.**   **The Kooks**  /  _Naive_  
  
How could this been done, by such a smiling sweetheart. Oh and your sweet and pretty face in such an ugly world, something so beautiful... still out to get me…  
  
 **4\. Laura Marling**  /  _Ghosts_  
  
He would stare at empty chairs, think of the ghosts that once sat there…the ghosts that broke my heart before I met you...lover please, do not fall to your knees, it’s not like I believe in everlasting love…  
  
 **5.** **Vance Joy** / _First Time_  
  
Breathe me with your hands, show me a safe place and I'll come down…can you recognize the look upon my face? It's on my lips, it's in my eyes. There will always be another time for us to fall in love, but it never cuts you quite as deep as that first time  
  
 **6. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart**  /  _Until the Sun Explodes_  
  
Tell me now you know somehow, things will turn out right if we stay dressed in our funeral best and sleep with open eyes…I’ll say to you I’ll stay with you until the sun explodes  
  
7\. **Jake Bugg**  /  _Broken_

I'll wait here for you…Down by the people if they let you breathe. Don't give a damn if you still can't see, still my heart beats for you

 **8.** **Modest Mouse**  /  _The World at Large_

You don't know where and you don't know when but you still got your words and you got your friends. Walk along to another day, work a little harder, work another way. Well uh-uh baby I ain't got no plan…

 **9\. A** **Lucinda Williams** /  _Unsuffer Me_  


Come in to my world, of loneliness and wickedness and bitterness, unlock my love. Unsuffer me, take away the pain, unbruise, unbloody, wash away the stain - anoint my head with your sweet kiss, my joy is dead, I long for bliss  
  
 **10.** **BANKS**  /  _You Should Know Where I'm Coming From_  
  
What if I said I was just too young? What if I said I was built on bricks of carelessness and crumbs?…You ought to know where I'm coming from, how I was alone when I burned my home…you should know where I'm coming from  
  
 **11.** **Kodaline**  /  _High Hopes_  
  
Seems to me like I'm just scared of never feeling it again…It's time to let it go, go out and start again…I've got high hopes, it takes me back to when we started…and the world keeps spinning  
  
 **12.** **Hozier**  /  _Take me to Church_  
  
Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife - offer me that deathless death, good God, let me give you my life  
  
 **13.** **The National**  /  _Runaway_  
  
There's no saving anything, now we're swallowing the shine of the summer…what makes you think I'm enjoying being led to the flood? We got another thing coming undone, and its taking us over. We don't bleed when we don't fight…throw your arms in the air tonight…  
  
 **14.** **Lady Antebellum**  /  _Need You Now_  
  
It’s a quarter after one, I’m all alone and I need you now...and I wonder if I ever cross your mind. It’s a quarter after one, I’m a little drunk and I need you now…and I don’t know how I can do without, I just need you now  
  
 **15.** **Regina Spektor**  /  _Samson_  
  
You are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first…beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth…and the history books forgot about us and the Bible didn’t mention us…you are my sweetest downfall. I loved you first  
  
 **16.** **Mumford & Sons** /  _Little Lion Man_  
  
Weep, little lion man, you're not as brave as you were at the start. Rate yourself and rake yourself, take all the courage you have left…and it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line – I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?  
  
 **17.** **Adele**  /  _Make You Feel My Love_  
  
The storms are raging on the rolling sea, and on the highway of regret. The winds of change are blowing wild and free, you ain't seen nothing like me yet. I could make you happy, make your dreams come true, nothing that I wouldn't do. Go to the ends of the Earth for you, to make you feel my love  
  
 **18.** **Monsters and Men**  /  _King and Lionheart_  
  
Howling ghosts – they reappear, in mountains that are stacked with fear, but you're a king and I'm a lionheart…and as the world comes to an end I'll be here to hold your hand, ‘cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart  
  
 **19.** **The Tallest Man on Earth**  /  _A Lion's Heart_  
  
In that land there's a winter, in that winter's a day, in that day there's a moment when it all goes your way. And you know it's a lion's heart that will tumble and tear apart, when he's coming down the hills for you…  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You may leave a comment here or on [Livejournal](http://harrybang.livejournal.com/10804.html)


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